A Spider's Web
by Iamepical
Summary: Ronnie and Jack have an explosive argument following the miscarrage of their baby and he storms out and meets a mysterious young woman. Meanwhile, Archie's vicious plan is set in motion, but can Ronnie and Jack's relationship survive his devious ways?
1. Prologue

**Well hello there ^.^ This randomly came to me while reading Stephen King for some reason. Updates won't be frequent due to exams, but I'll try my best. Please enjoy! I expect it will be between ten and fifteen chapters long.**

**To add a bit of mystery I thought I would start at the end. So yeah, please enjoy and review!**

The Queen Vic is in a quiet kind of darkness as the three of them stand there amid the black. Thoughts of betrayal, revenge and hatred are the only emotions present in the room, the threatening masses a suffocating wall between them, but bringing them all closer at the same time. Tears stream down her face and once they start she in unable to stop them. How can two people be so cruel, how can two people want to ruin her life so much? Only one word can describe them: evil.

In her hand the cool metal of the knife presses against her palm, oddly comforting in its menacing demeanour. She has never contemplated murder before now, never before wandered what it would be like to watch someone's life drain away before her eyes. But she imagines in now; it makes her feel a swooping sense of elation in her stomach that sends a sickening shiver down her spine. It is wrong to feel this way, but she can't help it; she wants them to pay.

Her eyes are blurred with tears and she is consumed by bitterness, not noticing when there is a movement to her right. For a while, the three of them had been held in place by the simple piece of metal clutched tightly in her hand, but now he leaps forward after sensing the change in her and sets time in motion again. A devious smile captures his face as he grabs her from behind and grips her wrists in his hands, nails digging in painfully. Unprepared, she throws herself against him, desperate to free her hands; but once again she fails; once again she is left powerless and in tangled in his impossible web.

"I've got her. Take the knife," he orders. In his arms, she pants heavily, watching as the dark haired woman edges closer.

The other woman hesitates and she tries to catch her eye, tries to get her to show some mercy.

"Take the knife from her," he repeats again more firmly, his smooth voice shaking dangerously.

Her eyes move side to side, drinking them both in as she makes her choice, carves her destiny from stone.

"No. I don't want to. We've done enough, just leave her," she trembles visibly as she speaks, her voice straining and uncertain.

"Do it!" he yells, his grip on his daughter weakening for a fraction of a second.

It isn't much, but it is enough.

Biting down hard on his arm, she fights the urge to retch as the taste of his skin clings rebelliously to her tongue.

He lets go.

She forces herself forward and darts to the other side of the Vic, smiling as she hears him wince in pain.

He follows, tearing after her and knocking his accomplice out of the way in the process.

None of them notice when the Vic door creaks open and another figure joins the frantic commotion, calling her name.

Knowing she only has one chance, one shot, she throws the knife sharply through the air and prays it reaches her target.

He stops and the dark haired woman screams.

In the darkness, someone falls.

Once again, he grabs her but this time she doesn't care.

She watches as a figure crumples in the darkness, falling slowly towards the floor with an spoken yell lingering on their mouth.

Then suddenly she is only aware of her own screaming and desperation to get to their side, but he wrenches her back and forces her to suffer. She can't watch, closes her eyes to shut it all out, but his hands reach around and he forces them open.

She will never forgive herself now, not with this and everything else that has happened. She feels herself falling, falling into an endless chasm only this time there will be no one to bring her back from the brink.

And her world shatters around her like her heart.

**Hope you enjoyed this, odd and confusing as it may have seemed. Sorry about the short length, but I didn't want to make it too detailed as this scene will be the end chapter as well. It is pretty obvious who two of them are, but I won't tell you who the other woman is. So, anyone care to guess how Ronnie got herself in this situation? And who do you think Ronnie accidentally knifed? Jack? Roxie? Peggy? Ben? Read and you will find out eventually =D**


	2. The Ultrasound

**Here's chapter 1! I took my first exam…biology…I think it went good. Well, I sure hope so anyway because I want to be a vet! Anywho, please enjoy and review this chapter! Oh, randomly, I'm obsessed with Billy Joel at the moment xD Listen to him!**

As the gel is spread across her bulging stomach, a warm feeling spreads through her despite the ice cold feeling of the substance; all morning she has barley been able to contain her excitement at the thought of seeing a scan of the tiny life growing inside of her. She can't wait to see the image of her child moving around inside of her and marvel at the sound of its heartbeat so miraculously close to hers. Last time they had come for the ultrasound, the baby had just been a blur, but now after reading every pregnancy book available she knows that it will be fully formed.

Grinning softly, she smiles up at Jack who is gripping her hands so tightly that it is almost painful, but she doesn't care; nothing could possibly bother her today when she is so ready to burst with happiness. He grins back, he too excited at the prospect of seeing their unborn baby. Before meeting Jack, she had never thought it possible to love someone so much, but she does. The last few months have been the happiest of her life. Together, they have faced everything from her father to Jack's infidelity and Ronnie's inability to express her emotions and together they have ridden out the storm; together they have travelled to hell and back again. He has made mistakes and she has too, but in the when it comes down to it, when push comes to shove, they have always forgiven each other. Because that's what you do when you love someone.

And now she is having his baby, their own little child to love and to care for. When she was young, all she ever wanted was a child to nurture to fill the hole in her life after Amy was stolen from her, and now she has everything she could ever have dreamed of and more. She can't imagine what her life would be like without Jack, and now a baby would make them complete, would make them whole. They were going to have their own little family.

"Right, we're ready for the ultrasound to be preformed now! Miss Veronica Mitchell isn't it?" the young nurse asks in her chirpy voice, eyes glittering with the sunlight that seeps in through the curtains.

"Ronnie Mitchell," she corrects automatically.

"Ronnie then," she smiles brightly, her brown cropped hair bobbing furiously as she reaches around to find the scanner.

"Your last scan was at three months is says in your file? Is that correct?"

"Yes," she replies, rather more sharply than intended. If the nurse already knows the answer to the question, then why ask it? All Ronnie cares about is seeing the sonogram of their baby.

"Good. And how has your pregnancy progressed since then? Has anything unusual happened?" she continues to quiz Ronnie as she slides the scanner across her stomach, eyes fixed on the screen as she waits for the baby to appear.

"No, I don't think so. I'm had a bit of morning sickness, but that's it really," she murmurs, too ensconced in the thoughts of seeing her unborn child to take in anything the nurse is saying.

At her side, Jack's grip increases again on her hand, his knuckles now a shade of white she has never seen before. Expectant, his eyes are just as focused on the screen as the nurse's are, and they are dancing with a gleeful joy.

"Jack?"

"Hmm," he murmurs, absent-mindedly smoothing back her billowing blonde hair with his free hand.

"You're crushing my fingers," she tells him, a faint smile catching her lips.

"Oh!" he laughs happily. "Sorry, Ron. I'm just so excited about seeing this little chap," dropping her hand, he looks at her perfectly round stomach fondly and then back to her face, thinking that he has never seen Ronnie looking so lovely. They say that some women suit pregnancy, and it is almost as if that statement is designed for Ronnie: a pretty rose colour constantly flushes her cheeks, her hair is more than often a messy frame around her face, but for some reason it makes her all the more beautiful and her eyes are happy. And alive; more alive than he has ever seen them.

"How do you know it's a boy?"

He shrugs, rolling his eyes slightly. They have already had this discussion a thousand times, but somehow their conversation always fell back into the unknown sex of their baby.

"Oh come on, Ron. It's obvious isn't it? He's always kicking because he wants to be a footballer when he grows up. A girl would be quieter than that,"

"Don't be so sexist!" she chides, hardly able to compress her smile. "Girls play football too you know. I did when I was young,"

"Yeah well, there's always one weirdo among children isn't there? Everyone knows football is a male's sport,"

"Oh shut up!" she giggles, trying to scowl furiously when he leaps out of the way of her swinging arm which was intended to collide against his arm.

He is about to make another smart comment when the nurse interrupts their childish banter.

"Ok…look, your baby is on the screen now. I assume you would like a picture?" she asks.

"Yes, of course,"

Her eyes return to the screen and Jack to her side. As they both stare in fascination at the image on the sonogram machine, he grabs her hand again and she grips it back, noticing how just like her he is trembling slightly. The baby, their baby, is fully formed now and she can make out its little fingers curled into a fist and the smooth shape of its head amid the black. She remembers seeing her baby when she was just fourteen years old and how she had instantly loved her child then as well. Ronnie doesn't know where that baby is now, but she hopes that wherever she is her little Amy is happy and that one day she will be given the chance to meet her little brother or sister. Everyday of her life she misses her lost child and that part of her heart can never be fixed, but at least now she has something which will ease that grief so she can fully move on with her life. Suddenly, she finds it remarkable that she is able to make something so incredibly amazing and that a tiny human being has developed inside of her for just over five months.

"Jack, that's our…" tears of joy spring in her eyes and catch on her eyelashes like rainwater.

"Our baby- I know," he smiles down at her, the love radiating from him scorching her skin as he kissed her forehead gently.

"Would you like to know the sex of the baby?" the nurse asks them.

"Yes,"

"No,"

They both burst out laughing at having spoken at the same time.

"I thought you didn't want to know the sex?" Jack says.

"I've changed my mind…we need to start buying suitable clothes for when it's born,"

He shrugs. "Fine. I don't mind either way," a smile creeps across his face then. "I bet you fifty quid that it's a boy,"

If the nurse if alarmed that they are betting on their baby, she doesn't show it.

"Deal, but you're going to loose just like you always do Jack,"

"It's a little boy,"

"Yes!" Jack punches the air with his fist. "I knew it!"

"You did not 'know it'," she laughs. "And don't think for a second that you're getting that money from me!"

"But-" he begins.

"I'll be back in a moment," the nurse announces, raising her voice to be heard above them both and performing a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"I'm just going to get the doctor to come and find the baby's heartbeat,"

"Is there something wrong?" Ronnie demands, alarm washing over her like cold water. If anything happens to their precious baby, she doesn't know what she would do, hope she would cope; it would completely destroy her.

"No, of course not. Don't worry, Miss Mitchell. I'm new and I suppose I'm still learning. I'm sure the doctor will have no trouble locating the heartbeat!" on that note, she bounds out of the room.

"Jack? You don't think there's-" she sounds afraid, her blood freezing in veins. Neither of them have considered that there might be something wrong.

"No," he says firmly. "Don't even say it, Ron. Everything is fine. In four months time it will be me, you and our baby. Our perfect little family," he leans down and kisses her on the lips and she closes her eyes, relaxing again; Jack always knows exactly what to say, always seems to know what words will calm her. She kisses him back, lost in the delicate thought of the happy future they will share together with their child.

But he doesn't let her see his eyes because seeing his eyes would mean she would see that he is only saying the words to comfort her because he wants them so desperately to be true ; that he saw the barely diminished look of sorrow in the nurse's eyes and that he knows it is over. When a tear rolls down his face and drips onto hers like rain she doesn't notice; doesn't want to notice. In their secret hearts they can both sense the malicious hand of tragedy squeezing at them, but he doesn't say a word and instead lets Ronnie soothe herself with the fragile thoughts of bliss.

"Good day, Miss Mitchell," the doctor strides in, his long face wizened and crinkled like corrugated card. The shadows behind his eyes suggest that he has seen things that neither of them can even begin to imagine and with that Ronnie and Jack both feel an overwhelming sense of foreboding.

"I'm sure everything is ok…heartbeats can be tricky to find sometimes,"

He picks up the scanner and once again she waits as he drags it across her stomach. In the corner of the room, the nurse stands silent with her hands knotted in her coat and a fearful expression carved on her face, not wanting to watch but unable to look away.

Ronnie can't look at the screen anymore, for the first time she doesn't even want to think about the baby. She watches the sunlight pour through the window in ribbons and squints as it lands on her face. Birds sing happily in the sun, unaware that the grey clouds swaggering across the sky are about to bring a storm. Jack's hand is once again a vice around her hand. An eternity seems to pass before anyone speaks, and when the words finally come Ronnie feels herself spiralling down into oblivion with nothing to cushion the powerful impact of the force.

The doctor opens his mouth to speak.

Ronnie closes her eyes and braces herself, her hand grabbing at Jack's shirt and clutching at the silky fabric like it's the only hope she has left.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Miss Mitchell, but the baby has stopped moving. It is impossible to tell why, but there is no heartbeat and the baby had died,"

Time stops moving with his voice and all she is aware of leaping to her feet and Jack trying to hold her back as she tears the scanner from the Doctor's hands.

"He can't be dead. I only felt him move yesterday!" she says, furious at the Doctor for suggesting her precious little child might be dead. Moving the scanner anxiously across her stomach, she waits desperately for a gentle thudding noise to appear, convinced that at any moment she will feel her tiny son kick out against her stomach and let her know he is ok.

But he doesn't kick.

And the screen remains silent.

Ronnie feels her heart go as still as the image of her lost child on the ultrasound and she sinks to the floor in a shuddering heap as she strokes her stomach tentatively.

"Ron? Ronnie?" Jack bends to her level and picks her up gently, massaging her back like it will makes things right again.

But it won't.

Nothing will ever be right again.

How come she always looses everything that is precious to her?

She probably deserves it; probably doesn't deserve to take care of another life after screwing up her own and other peoples' so spectacularly.

"Ronnie. It's gonna be ok, darling," he draws her into his arms and smoothes down her hair, not aware his words are destroying her even more. With every second that passes a little more of her heart crumbles and all the words in the world can't change that. He presses is cheek against hers and for a moment she lets him hold her, their bitter salty tears mingling together before she pushes him away.

"How can you say that, Jack? How can you possibly say that? He's gone Jack, our baby's d-" she shoves him hard in the chest, the time only five minutes ago when she considered Jack the most important thing in her life seeming a lifetime ago. Somehow she can't bring herself to say the word; that would be accepting her baby is gone and never coming back.

"I know, I know," he murmurs stepping forward. "But we'll get through this together, Ron. I promise,"

Then she collapses into his arms, an anguished scream escaping her lips as the crushing realisation that for the second time in her life she has lost a child hits her like a gust of wind. She can feel her soul slipping away as she tries to forget the pain, but then the Doctor speaks again and she is brought crashing back to earth.

And it hurts more than she could ever have imagined. Her baby is gone, the life that has grown inside of her for five months dead taken away from her so easily.

"I know it will be hard for you, but the pregnancy is too far advanced for a tablet; you will have to deliver the embryo naturally I'm afraid,"

Her knees give way beneath her and Jack is the only thing holding her up; she has already broken now but somehow he is managing to stop the pieces from falling away.

"It's not an embryo!" Jack spits angrily, his voice heavy with tears and sorrow at their lost baby. She has never seen him cry before, not like this. But somehow his tears don't seem as raw, they can't be. He already has children and unlike Ronnie he hasn't had his heart broken before; to be broken hearted and get it fixed again only to shatter it into a thousand pieces more than before is almost unbearable.

"It's our baby, so don't go calling it by some scientific name like it doesn't even matter!"

"Mr Branning!" the nurse steps forward with her glistening eyes and speaks for the first time. "I understand that you're upset but that's-"

"Understand that he's upset?" Ronnie screams suddenly. How dare this woman pretend to understand how either of them are feeling, to try and feel just some the raw pain that will shadow them for the rest of their lives, a silhouette of their lost child. "Lost a baby have you? You have no idea how this feels. You have know idea how it feels to loose something and have your whole world slip away with it!" she screams, her tears engraving a permanent path down her face.

"I'm sorry," the nurse says softly. Ronnie doesn't care when her harsh words cause tears to spring in the woman's eyes.

And then she fades again, leaning on Jack for support as she allows herself to weaken into an empty nothing.

"The appointment is tomorrow at half past 4. It's important you turn up or the baby will start to leak toxins into your body which could kill you," the doctor announces, trying to restore some form of order. His voice is curt and uncaring, like he has seen this too many times to care anymore.

Floating in and out of the world, she half hears his whispered words and finds herself hoping that the toxins would kill her by tomorrow so that in the morning Jack will find her in a state of eternal sleep so she doesn't have to face him or the world without her baby.

"Come on Ronnie, let's go," he urges her through the door and she feels herself glide along, her eyes becoming glassy and her feelings detached.

The she slowly begins to die just like their baby.

**Well, I hope this cheered everyone up lol! I hope I got the grief poor Ronnie and Jack felt at loosing their baby. I was pleased with parts of this, but some bits failed epically. I'm not sure if I described their feelings well enough. Lemme know what you thought!**


	3. The Colour of Death

**Thanks for your reviews! English Literature today…poetry went ok but the Mocking Bird part failed epically for me. Ahh well. I don't care that much about English anyway :') How awesome am I lol? Updating on two consecutives days! It's only because of study leave though!**

Her eyes are the colour of death; the only colour they reflect against the dim glow of the lamp is black and the startling blue has faded to darkness. As if they might snap at any moment, her fingers nurse a mug of cold coffee tightly. Ronnie only holds it because she needs something to clutch onto and is trying her best not to let her hands go anywhere near her stomach, because that will only bring back the pain. Blonde hair frames her face, the blonde tendrils falling down her back in a waterfall, but she doesn't notice when Jack carefully reaches around to brush them away from her eyes. It already seems to have been an eternity since when she would tremble in pleasure every time he touched her.

She knows he is worried about her, can sense that he wants more than anything to hold her and ease her pain. But nothing can ease her pain and holding her can only make things worse; it would be like accepting that her little boy really is gone forever; that would be like letting death win.

And she is determined not to let that happen.

Tomorrow she will wake up and it will have just been a nightmare; she will go to the hospital and her baby's heartbeat will be there, as strong and steady as stone and she will give birth to him and soothe him as he cries for the first time. She can't have lost another child, surely even death wouldn't be that cruel. Loosing something you love so irrevocably is something that only happens once in life to some women, but mostly it never happens and it certainly shouldn't happen twice because that is just too much.

Pulling up a seat opposite her, Jack watches the woman he loves too much falling to pieces before his eyes. He is worried, worried that this will be the end of her and that she is too lost in a cloak of death and sorrow to be found again. More than anything he wants to comfort her and for her to need him.

Because he needs her as sure as he needs air to breathe with.

So far in his life, Jack has never experienced anything quite like this before; it almost feels as if a fragment of his life has been chipped away. But Ronnie has felt this way before and that's why it has hurt her all the more. She had hoped that the baby would be a fresh start for them after all the hurdles so she could finally move on, but hope is a beautiful but tenuous thing to feel when it can be snatched away in the blink of an eye.

Now as he watches her Jack feels truly frightened for the first time in his life. He is afraid that this will push her over the edge, but at the same time he is afraid of touching her, knowing that one wrong word will shatter her and break her beyond repair. Carefully, he reaches across the table and take her hand in his, caressing the back of her hand with love. But all too soon she snatches it back, her red rimmed and dead eyes not even registering him. He flinches, stung by her rejection. It astounds him that in the space of a few hours he has lost the woman he loves.

On the surface, everything is still the same: Ronnie still has her baby bump, the decorated nursery is as pleasant as ever and she is even using the same coffee mug.

But somehow everything has changed and this time Jack knows that it's probably for good.

"Ronnie?" he says, voice no more than a whisper. "How about another coffee? That one's gone cold,"

She doesn't move, just continuing to stare vacantly at the world, a dead woman somehow still on earth.

"Or how about something to eat? You have to eat something; you need to keep your strength up"

Miraculously, Jack's voice drags her back to the present; a present where she knows that her baby really is gone and where the pain isn't just a numb feeling, but a terrifying reality that devours her heart. She looks at him then with her tear stained face and Ronnie almost laughs at the ridiculousness of the statement. What does she have left to keep her strength up for? The way she sees it, she has nothing left that she cares enough about to keep her strength up for. Jack was her whole life, but that life is in the past now; back in the past when her baby was alive.

"Eat?" she mocks shakily. "How can you possibly think I would want to eat?"

He stares at her, half shocked to discover that she isn't a ghost.

"I know it's hard, Ron. But you still have to eat," he tells her firmly, determined to get his way with her. He won't let her spiral out of control, not again. If he looses her this time then he won't be able to find her.

But Jack doesn't know that he has already lost.

"I don't want to eat," she gets up quickly from the table, her chair falling to the floor with a clatter at the sudden movement. "I just want to go to sleep,"

They both know this is a lie; it is unlikely that Ronnie will ever sleep again for a long time. Jack suddenly feels furious with her, furious that she is letting herself sink into depression and leaving him to handle the mess like she always does. He has always been the one who's had to sort things out, to apologise, never her.

"Christ sake, Ronnie!" he slams his fist down on the table, the cold coffee jumping in shock at the vibration. "You can't just stop eating,"

"Yes, yes I can! There's no point eating anymore is there? It's not like I have reason to eat now," she yells at him, her voice rising until its pitch is an octave higher. Jack rises too, his own temper flaring like a lion.

"I'm not gonna watch you do this to yourself," he shouts back, almost pleased that he has achieved a reaction from her; at least it is better than that terrible haunted stare.

"Then don't!" she screams, hair falling in front of her face until she looks almost manic. "I'm not making you stay. Go on, Jack! Just get out," she steps forward and gives him a hard shove. "Leave me just like you always do when things get tough,"

Each of her words cut through him, sharp as a knife. But they hurt a lot more than a simple knife wound ever could. He knows he hasn't always been there for and he regrets that, and for her to drag it back up again after something so dreadful has happened is one of the worst ways she could hurt him. No matter what, he will never leave her. Not when she's like this; no matter how much this changes her he will never leave again.

The argument isn't about food, not really. It's about the baby just like everything is.

They stare at each for a timeless moment and then Ronnie breaks down, sinking to the floor for the second time that day as the flood gates open and uncontrollable sobs and shudders take hold. Jack is at her side instantly, wrapping her in his arms and fighting her when she tries to push him away before she relents.

"It's ok," he murmurs, cradling her head like he would a child and she buries her face in his chest. "It's ok to cry, Ron. Just talk about it, tell me what you're feeling,"

"No, Jack!" she manages to say through her sobs. "I don't want to talk about it," she manages to free herself from his arms and again rises shakily to her feet. "What the hell do you want me to say? He's gone, Jack! My little baby boy is gone!"

"Our baby boy," he whispers, fury shaking his voice. How can she be so selfish right now? How could he? Death is already tearing them apart.

The remaining colour drains from her face and her lips curl into an unsuited look of derision. "'our baby boy'? You don't even care!"

"How can you say that?" he yells heatedly. "How can you say that I don't care that our baby has died? I loved him just as much as you, Ron! You're so selfish, do you know that? You always do this; always act like you're the only one hurting while I'm left to pick up the pieces,"

His words break the remaining piece of heart. Does Jack really think that? That she is the selfish ice queen everyone else says she is. Is the man she loves truly only here because he feels so guilty and is trying to fix what can't be mended.

The look on his face answers the question for her.

"Then go pick up the pieces somewhere else and just leave me alone," she says softly, hurt and grief lacing her voice as she turns and starts to head to the bedroom. More than anything, she wants to shout at him and make him see that no matter what she says she needs him, that she can't get through this without him.

But she doesn't.

"I think I will,"

The fight has left his voice. Like her, he is defeated.

The door slams as storms out of her life again, leaving nothing but silence and death his wake.

"Don't go," she whispers.

But it's too late now and the words bounce off the door and dissolve into the night.

**I'm actually, le gasp, pleased with this =o Please review and let me know if you are too. Also do you guys think I should swap English Lit and do Geography as my fourth A level instead? Because I really hate English Lit at the moment!**


	4. His Veronica

**Thanks for reviewing. I will update this, but it is taking a backseat because I'm busy writing a horror story at the moment. If anyone cares to critique it for me lemme know (: Anyhow, enjoy this. And I really should do a disclaimer.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Eastenders as much as I wish I did. The only character that is my creation is the annoying Louisa (:**

Sipping his brandy, he listens to Roxy's hardly muffled sobs in the next room and a peculiar smile creeps onto his face. He could go to her, but he knows that soon she will run into his arms of her own accord and just like when she was a little girl he will hold her close and stroke her hair while whispering sweet but nothingless promises in her ear. These past few months she has distanced herself from him in her determination to win back the trust of her sister after she betrayed her with Jack, but the love and loyalty she feels towards her father has never been far submerged under the blue pools of her eyes.

The love a child feels for a parent is unconditional.

Even Veronica knows that.

As much as she tries to run from him, tries to break away in her determination to hate him and put as much distance between them as possible, she will never break free of those weary chains binding their hearts because where there's hate there's always love.

And soon he will get her back; he will get both of his little girls back.

The beginnings of a plan to break Veronica's heart in the worst way possible are already exploding in his mind like an eruption of lava. He has the tool, has had her for months in fact. Now he is just waiting for an opportune moment.

"Dad?" Roxy's pale, tear streaked face appears in the doorway and although her eyes have dried up her lips are still wobbling frantically.

"What's happened, darling?" he asks, feigning a concern that Veronica would have seen through in an instant, but one that Roxy has always fallen for. She is too blinded by his tender exterior to view the lies underneath it all. Archie loves his youngest daughter dearly, but he loves Ronnie with something close to obsession, however his affections have never been returned. When she was a little girl, he could force them upon her, but now she is a thirty four year old woman and far too unbalanced for that to happen anymore. She always was, and still is, stubborn, defiant and closed off to the world.

But that has only ever made him love her more.

Roxy he can handle easily; one gentle word from him and she breaks, but Veronica isn't like that. He wishes she was still a little girl when manipulating her was so easy and the love she gave him was unquestioned no matter what her Daddy did to her. They'd loved each other so much back then and although the words had always remained unspoken he had shown her his love many times. Somewhere in the depths of his sick mind, he recognises what he used to do to her was wrong, but he knows it was for her own good. Everything he ever does he only does because he loves her. Yes, she may be a grown woman now, but Archie will win back his Veronica whatever it takes.

Because she always did, and still should, belong to him.

It's the same for most people, but there has never been a truer statement for Archie Mitchell: the thing you want the most is always what you can never quite have.

"Oh, Dad!" just like he predicted, she darts forward and throws her arms around his neck. Wrinkled hands put down the brandy glass and come to rest on Roxy's back, warm and almost too soft.

"It just 'aint fair! Ron just called and her and Jack have lost the baby. She's in a right state," a fresh wave of tears pour down her face, but if Archie knows his youngest daughter at all they are probably more for herself than for Veronica. She has always been a selfish child, and now she is crying tears of guilt and sadness because she has what her sister can't with the love of her life because of one pathetic mistake: a baby.

"Everything always happens to Ronnie. It'll be like losing Amy all over again for her. Do you think I should go over and make sure she's ok?" she asks, sniffing heavily into a tissue that has materialised from her pocket.

His arms stiffen, but luckily it goes unnoticed by Roxy; in the end, it always comes back to the stupid baby. Their family had been perfect before Joel and the baby came along, and then that bubble of happiness was blasted away in mere weeks. When he took away Amy it was for Veronica's own good. For him, there had never been a question of her keeping it; a baby would make her dirty, a constant reminder than someone other than him has been allowed to love his precious Veronica.

But for some reason she has never seen that she didn't need her baby and that all she needed was her Daddy; she has hated him from that day.

Now the situation is better than he could ever have hoped for now. She has lost second baby and now she will be vulnerable and more in need of Dad than ever before. It is the perfect opportunity to win back his little girl so she comes running into his arms again.

And he needs to make sure that Jack Branning doesn't get in his way, or even Roxy for that matter. He has been in contact with Louisa Dawson for months and just waiting for the right time to use to her to destroy Veronica's life and bring her back to him. It has been difficult convincing her of his lies and manipulating her thoughts so she wants to destroy Veronica's life just as much as he does, but he managed it eventually; he won just like he always does.

"No...You know what your sister is like. She'll probably want to keep her grief to herself. She's a grown woman and Jack will be there for her,"

_But Jack is vulnerable too_, Archie thinks slyly as he comforts Roxie._ And he won't be with my Veronica for long._

"You're right...I think I can hear Amy crying," she draws away from his then and he dries her cheek with the back of his hand. "Thanks, Dad,"

The moment he is sure she isn't listening and can hear her cooing some dreadful song to Amy, he withdraws his phone from his pocket and scrolls down to her number. The phone rings and he drums his fingers against the hard wooden table as he waits for her to pick up.

"Hey, it's me,"

She doesn't bother replying, but Archie can hear her soft breaths on the other end of the line.

"The baby's gone, and I have a plan,"

He speaks quickly in a hushed voice as he tells her the version she wants to hear, knowing that if Peggy or Roxy overhear it will be ruined in an instant.

"...So you're still at the B&B?"

She confirms that she is.

"Go and find him then and do what I said. He'll be upset so it should be simple enough. A baby with him is all she ever wanted, and if you take him away from her it'll detroy her,"

He doesn't feel any guilt at the thought of using Louisa in this way, not as long as it gets Jack out of the way and gets him back Veronica. Archie can almost hear her hesitate for a moment, perhaps wondering if a woman she has never even met really deserves this.

Phase one of his devious plan should be carried through soon. Of course Louisa doesn't know that eventually he will ruin her life too because he can't have her in the way of him and Veronica. Or Roxy. Or Jack. As long as she is left with no one but her father and blames everything on Louisa then it will push her straight into his open arms and back to where she belongs.

"I'll do it," she tells him, her voice firm. "I love you," she adds in a whisper.

"Good girl." his voice is chilling, smooth.

"He won't stay in the house for long so go and watch for him and then follow," "And I love you too," then he hangs up before the doubt creeps back into her voice, imagining her looking at the raw marks on her arms and blaming Veronica because of his lies.

A manic grin spreads like jam across his face.

The slow break down of Veronica's and Louisa's lives are only just beginning.

**This was meant to have more stuff, but then it would have been stupidly long, so yeah. Expect another update tomorrow (: Did I make Archie sound insane enough? Review please.**

**Who is this Louisa then? And what exactly has Archie told her? They may have plotted together, but what does Archie really have in store? Read on to find out...**


	5. My Angel

**Maths GSCE non-calc= epic fail. I mean oh dear lord. I love Maths and usually find it fairly straight forward, but it was just horrific! History and English went fairly well though. Anyway, thanks for your reviews, folks. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

The moment he hears the door slamming behind and hears the lock click into place with a solemn clunk, he wants nothing more than to go back to Ronnie and let her shout him as much as she wants. Jack knows that nothing will stop her from falling apart, but he should at least be with her to hold her and collect her splintered pieces when she is ready to be put back together again. Devastated, ruined, Ronnie is only doing what she always does when things get tough: pushing him away. He is hurting too, but that's no excuse for being sat with his head in his hands on the door step instead of inside and holding Ronnie while she sobs or screams at him. He should have known this would happen, should have prepared himself for it instead of letting his grief get the better of him. Most of all, he knows he shouldn't have said what he did her. But it is already too late and he can't take his words back.

Now he feels an overwhelming sense of guilt; he has abandoned Ronnie, left her when she needs him most just because she is running from him and shutting down to cope with her loss. Just like before when he betrayed her with his own sister, he has failed her again; he has failed the woman he swore never to hurt again, failed the love of his life.

He wants more than anything to go back, but he can't.

Partly because he doesn't want to face her, because like her he isn't ready to talk about it and face the sorrow together, but mainly because the damage is already done.

Jack can hold her all he wants, and Ronnie can yell as much as she needs to.

But in the end their baby still won't be breathing, just another lost soul.

In his head, thoughts continue to whir around like a violent tornado and he winces, feeling the beginning of a migraine coming on. Dragging himself to his feet, he is surprised to find the curtains to their bedroom still open. Ronnie is in there, lying on her side with her back to him. He knows instantly that she isn't asleep. For the first time in his life when he watches her, he feels not desire, but only a profound sense of sadness; she is just so fragile, so unbelievably small, that Jack fears she might disappear.

Time passes quickly and Jack isn't aware how long he stands there watching her lie in a rigid position, and he doesn't even notice when tears start to fall down his face for Ronnie and for their small dead son who he would never have the chance to teach how to ride a bike or to take to school. Why did it have to be them? Why did they have to loose a baby after everything they'd already been through? He has never been religious, but now he finds himself cursing God for taking away their son.

And although he isn't yet ready to admit it out loud, he curses God because he knows that the instant their baby died so did his relationship with Ronnie.

Inside, he continues to stare as he watches the ragged heaves of her chest, the way in which she would occasionally shiver and the way one of her hands clutch at her trousers while the other remains trapped beneath her cheek. The window may be between them, but he imagines that he can feel her pure heartache radiating through the glass and he rubs his eyes furiously, not yet accustomed to such sorrow. He remembers back to the previous night when he was there lying next to her, her slender body pressed firmly against his in a tangle of limbs; the way he had inhaled the the fruity scent of her hair that smelt like an orchard and the way they had both pressed their hands against the swell of her stomach and thought in wonderment about the life growing inside of Ronnie. The only difference now is that Jack still wants to lie next to her, but can hardly bear to and he wants to feel for his baby only there is nothing to feel. He thinks about how she would used to look him and melt his heart with a glance, how she would watch him with such love.

There is nothing in those vacant eyes now though.

_No evidence they are anything more than strangers_, Jack thinks glumly.

Once again, he fights back the tears that threaten to spill from his eyes and finally moves away from the window and heads down the path through the rusting gates and onto Albert Square where most people have now vacated to watch the TV by the merry crackles of their fires. Jack can't see the point in going back now; he doesn't want to face Ronnie right, as guilty as he feels for leaving her, and chances are she doesn't want to face him. Things will be clearer after a few drinks; things will be clearer in the morning when the pain has numbed slightly and he feels level headed enough to talk to Ronnie and not get angry at her. Not that he has a reason to get angry. Ronnie can't help it, but he has no excuse for the terrible things he said to her. He doesn't even deserve her. If he were her, he would never forgiven himself after Roxy and definitely not after tonight. He hopes by tomorrow Ronnie will be ready to talk and then they can face this together before it tears them apart for good.

Glumly, he moves away from the window and heads towards the pub without noticing the wind as it bites his cheeks, not knowing how tonight will change his and Ronnie's lives.

**(Change in POV)**

Ronnie lies staring at the ceiling and forces herself to think of anything but their dead baby, but no other thought will come to mind and images of a child that will never be leaves footprints as it dances through her mind. Just like the night Amy was taken, she knows that tonight she will lay awake determined to outwit the sandman so he can't bring the nightmares. She longs to feel Jack's arms around her and his voice tickling her ear, convincing her that all of this will be ok. But she knows he won't be back, not tonight anyway. And a small part of her recognises that she has probably lost him forever. Once the knowledge would have crushed her, but tonight she can't even bring herself to feel what it would mean for her to loose Jack. All she registers is the loss of her baby and the feeling that somehow it is her fault, that she has done something to make her little baby die. Her hand moves to her stomach just like it did last night to say goodnight to the unborn child, only now there is nothing left to say goodnight to.

Dragging herself from the bed, she heads back towards the kitchen and picks up the chair that is still lying in a discarded fashion.

She glances at the clock; it is almost midnight. Four hours since Jack walked out on her.

The room is in an oppressive darkness, but she can't summon the energy to turn on the lights. Monotonous, irritating, the only sound present is the constant tick of the clock. She finds herself wondering where Jack is, wonders if like her is so devastated he can hardly function.

The she feels angry; it bursts from nowhere like water from a broken dam. How could he leave her tonight? She shouldn't have said that he didn't care, shouldn't have told him she wanted him to leave, but she didn't mean it. She needs him more than ever tonight. And yet he isn't here. He's left her. Jack should have known she was only acting because of the unrelenting anguish she felt at her loss. The words she screamed at him earlier spring to the forefront of her mind, "Just like you always do"

Suddenly, she wants revenge. She wants him to hurt just as much as she is hurting now. As a child when her Dad would play his games to make her repent for being naughty, she'd always been the one to apologise. But not anymore. Jack holds the key to the one remaining piece of her and she is sick to the bone of giving her heart away so readily only for people to rip it to pieces.

Tonight she will end it. If Jack doesn't want her, then no one will. And even if he does want her she doesn't care; all she wants is for him to hurt. For him to hurt like her and their baby.

_Their baby._

She thinks of Jack and the horrific expression etched on his face as he finds her body lying on their bathroom floor: broken. But she doesn't feel anything because in her mind she knows that tonight isn't really about Jack and hurting him.

A small smile is a whisper on her face as she thinks of the eternity they will spend together when this is over. All she has ever wanted to raise a child, and tonight she will get that dream. Even death can't stop her. And in the process she will make herself suffer because somehow she knows it's her fault that he is dead.

Hands shaking, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, she heads to the bathroom and pulls open the door of the medicine cabinet. The transparent glass containing small white pills seems to glint in anticipation. Grabbing the bottle, one hand returns to her stomach and caresses it gently.

_Don't worry; we'll be together soon my angel._

**(Change in POV)**

Jack fumbles with his shirt and the distance between them shrinks irrestiebly. His heart thunders in guilt and anticipation under his shirt as their bodies crash together and his fingers knot in her waves of chocolate hair. The alcohol has stopped him from thinking rationally, but a small part of him understand that he will live to regret this tomorrow, a silhouette of Ronnie and the day's events talking shadows in his mind.

But now he forces them back. Right now he simply wants to forget and loose himself in the pretty young girl in her arms; he wants to forget that he feels as though he's lost part of his soul and he wants to forget about helping Ronnie as much as he needs her in his life. Pushing Louisa on to the grungy B&B bed, his mouth presses against hers.

Somewhere else, only a ten minute walk away, the woman he loves far too much slips the first pill into her mouth and for the first time since the ultrasound feels that everything will turn out okay.

If he hadn't been intoxicated on drink and on Louisa's cheap perfume and her alluring voice then he would have felt terrible that he was betraying the woman he swore not to hurt yet again.

If he'd have known that at the same instant he was tearing off another woman's clothes that Ronnie was giving up the fight, he would have rushed back to her.

But he doesn't.

And when he does it might already be too late.

**Man, I loathe this chapter. There's just something I hate about the way it's written. It seems...rushed and too...flowery? Jack tosser much? I know sleeping with Louisa was abrupt, but I really need to get off here and revise graphics so I will explain next chapter in a flashback of regret or whatever how it came about. Review please!**


	6. Their Special Secret

**Omg. I actually can't believe how appalling England were against Germany. I want Brazil to win now. I'm sorry about the delay with this, but it's been doing my nut in sorting out the plot and what should come next etc. Italics are memories. ALSO OMG PROM WAS AMAZING! Enjoy this!**

**Warning: Bad language and scenes child abuse. Don't like, don't read.**

As Silently as she possibly can when the first crack of light slithers through the curtains, Louisa slides out of bed and heads towards the bathroom so she can send him a text to tell him that she has done what he wanted; more than anything, she hopes it will please him. These past few months he has been good to her but deep down she knows that neither of them can have the relationship they want until they have made _her _live to regret what she did to them both. What she has always wanted is just out of reach, close but not yet close enough to touch and as soon as she makes him happy and they ruin _her_ life then everything will finally be ok.

A muffled groan from the bed distracts her then, but a quick glance at Jack confirms he is still sound asleep. Maybe he is having a nightmare like she has had since she was a four year old child, or maybe he is just dreaming of the child that he will never meet and the woman he walked out on last night. Getting him back to the B&B had been easy; almost too easy, like he'd wanted to come. And she guesses he probably did. All she had to do was flutter her pretty eyelashes and he poured out his life story to her, told her how much he was hurting just because he had no one else to tell. Listening aptly, offering just a few words of comfort, he had fallen easily into her arms. She wonders what it is like to loose something you wanted so much and for a second she feels guilty, recognising somewhere that she is probably dragging a good man into their games.

But only for a second.

She had been close enough last night to smell the alcohol on his breath, close enough for it to caress her face so she remembered her father's face mere inches from her's, breathing that foul stench of cigarettes and beer until she almost retched. And just like that the guilt is gone as quickly as it arrived. It doesn't matter how much she hurts this man because no matter what she does to him his life will _never_ be screwed up as much as her's is. Never. Not in a million years.

She steps into the bathroom, looks in the mirror. But instead of her own reflection staring back, it is his and suddenly she can hear his voice as clearly as if he was here. "I love you so much, Lou-,

_And i'm so happy I get to spend the whole day with my special little angel. C'mon over here and give me a hug and a kiss, sweetie,"_

_The little girl bounds over, a joyous smile that only exists in innocence brightening her chubby face as he spins her in the air. Her chocolate plait bounces against her back as she leaps willingly into his arms, planting a small kiss on his cheek. She loves her Daddy more than anything in the world and she can hardly contain her excitement that her Mummy has gone out for the day; it means she will get to spend a whole day just with her Dad doing the things with him she loves to do the most._

"_Aww, you can do better than that can't you, Lou? You do love me don't you?" his voice has a slight edge of threat, but she is so happy to be with him that she doesn't notice._

"_Sure I do, Daddy," she smiles sheepishly, almost ashamed to imagine that her Daddy thinks she doesn't love him; to her, there is nothing more important than her relationship with Daddy. He gives her back a tender rub to let her know he forgives her and then he puckers his lips and she gives him a sweet kiss. His hand comes to the back of her head, caressing her hair softly while forcing her mouth to remain at his lips for just a little while too long, but Louisa's four year old mind can't comprehend that something is wrong._

"_That's my Lou." Malicious, devious, he grins at her and she grins back. There is something odd about his voice and on his breath she can smell something but she isn't quite sure what it is; one thing she does understand is that it makes her want to run as far away from him as she possibly can._

_Because it is an evil smell._

_But there is one thing stopping her; there will always be one thing stopping her. She could squirm out of his arms, but that would only make her Daddy angry and a four year old Louisa Dawson already lives to please her father, sometimes not knowing why she feels so bound to him but loving him nonetheless._

_He sets her down then and she thinks nothing of it when he runs a hand the full length of her body. That sickening grin still covers his face, but it only fills her with joy because it proves that her Daddy loves her just as much as she loves him._

"_I need you to do something now for me, Louisa. It's very important and if you really love me you'll do it. All little girls gotta do this at some point to show their Daddies how much they love 'em," he begins to fiddle with the belt of his trousers, slowly unwinding the belt until they come loose and are only hitched up by his hands. Louisa looks at him curiously and wide-eyed, wondering what it is that her Daddy needs it to do. Whatever it is, she will happily do it as long as it pleases him._

"_You can't tell your mummy though, Lou. She'd never understand, but it can be our special little secret,"_

_The first thought of doubt creeps into her mind then but she isn't sure how to act upon it. She doesn't like the thought of not telling her Mummy something, but on the other hand it fills her with immense pride to know that her Daddy wants a special secret with her that only they know about; it makes her feel the luckiest little girl on the planet._

_Calmly, still grinning, he lets go of his trousers and they fall to the floor leaving his naked body visible. "Come on over 'ere, Lou, and I'll show you what you gotta do,"_

_She can see droplets of sweat rolling down his chin in apparent excitement and she doesn't understand them at all. Louisa doesn't feel excited at all anymore; she only feels afraid, more afraid than she has ever felt in her life even though she couldn't explain why if anyone asked her._

_But she can't move._

_She is stuck between the desperation of wanting to please her Daddy and the thought that whatever he wants her to do is wrong. Before she can stop it, her lips begins to quiver and her eyes start to glisten, but this only seems to infuriate him._

"_You hear me or what? Get the fuck over here, Louisa! Before I make you,"_

_There it is again; that evil smell encapsulating her, whispering at her to run while she still has the chance. But she still can't move. The sight of her Daddy's half naked body has frozen her to the point where it looks as if medusa has turned her to stone._

"_Get here now, you little bitch," his eyes look like two pieces of hard, filthy, black coal and his face is the ugly frown of a man not getting his own way._

_He lurches forward then, intending to grab her._

_Somehow, her paralysis is broken and his movement sets time in motion again. She stumbles backwards, wanting to get to her bedroom so she can bury her head in her pillow and forget about what's happening, shut out that awful smell and comfort herself with dreams of her Daddy taking her to the funfair or the beach._

_But she is too slow. His hand closes like a vice around her tiny arm and she gives up then, knowing that he is far too strong for her, part of her almost feeling glad; if she had have escaped to her bedroom, she would have felt so awful for not doing what her Daddy had asked. All the same, she can't stop a wail escaping her lips when she thinks of all the terrible stories other kids tell at nursery about vampires with those sharp fangs that pierce your skin and slowly drain away your blood until you are an empty shell, and for a moment the terrible thought occurs that a vampire got her Daddy and that's why he's acting so mean. The room spins before her eyes as she tries to wriggle her arm free of his._

"_Please, Daddy! Let me go, you're hurting me,"_

_He does and he looks at her as if he has never seen her before. His eyes are green again, that startling green that they were before. The room stops spinning and Louisa knows her Daddy is back even though that smell is still on his breath, not that nasty man who grabbed hold of her arm and left red marks. A furious, anguished look crosses his face and he turns away from his daughter, his expression unreadable, and collects his trousers from the floor before falling to the sofa. He reaches over to the bottle and looks at it, his expression mirroring Louisa's earlier; a look of pure want but knowing that there is something wrong, something he should escape from. Hands white, he hurls it against the wall and it smashes into a thousand pieces, shards scattering everywhere._

"_Get to your room now," her orders, his breath is heavy and his head falling into his hands._

_Louisa wants to run to him and tell him that she knows he didn't mean it, but she is still slightly afraid of him. "You ok, Dad-"_

"_Get to your fucking room!" his bellows, eyes flashing black again before he looks at himself in horror and gets up from the sofa so he is looking anywhere except his four year old daughter._

_Tears spill down her face like water breaking free of a dam and this time she knows not to disobey her Daddy. Silently, she slips through the door and into her bedroom convincing herself that everything will be fine when again when Mummy gets home, not knowing it won't be; nothing will ever-_

Be fine again unless she finally puts her mind at rest by ruining _her_ life and by having what she wants but can't seem to have with the man she loves: a baby. He told her he has something else to do to _her_ as well, but she isn't sure what that is yet. But she knows this; she is perfectly happy to along with it so long as it pleases him and breaks_ her_ heart.

_**Cheery stuff. I hope I handled the abuse ok. Other than the very first few paragraphs, I am fairly happy with this. I'm trying to make myself sympathise with Louisa, but I hate her even though she is my creation xD I know it seems confusing right now, like why would Louisa hate Ronnie? But don't worry, folks, all will be revealed eventually. Please review!**_


	7. Sinking

**Well, it's midnight here and I've been fiddling with this chapter for a couple of hours now. It's been annoying because there's so much I wanted in this chapter, but then it would have been stupidly long. Well, I've picked my A level options now: Biology, Chemistry, Maths and Geography. I decided on Geography after the taster session as English lit sounds boring as hell xD Anyhow, please enjoy! Oh, bold letters indicate change in scene/POV.**

**(The early hours of the morning)**

She feels like she's sinking; each time she swims closer to the shore, to help, the roaring waves are waiting until the end is just within grasp before dragging her back down again. Unrelenting, they strangle her entire being so she is almost fully submerged, but they never quite grant her the mercy of pulling her down into the murky depths of the water so she won't ever have to face the world again; the waves are too cruel for that. Life is too cruel for that. Every time she thinks she's found happiness, something sucks it away again and her along with it like a whirlpool. Like her father has done for her entire life. He took away her little Amy and now death has taken away her son.

And now she's drowning in the loss. It's too much and she can't fight the waves anymore, is sick of struggling against something she will never beat. She wants to die, wants to sink, but it seems she can't even do that without something stopping her; even now, after taking all the pills and slowly slipping away something is drawing her back. For a fraction of a second, her eyes open and she sees Roxy's terrified face with tears streaming down white cheeks looming over her, and she hears her voice willing her to get better.

Ronnie sees her sister and she hates her. Hates that she had a baby with the man she is love with and hates her for trying to spoil the only thing that might bring her happiness and reunite her with her dead baby. Again she opens her eyes, and this time Roxy sees and Ronnie hears her breathe a dramatic sigh of relief. Her head is pounding and every nerve in her body tells her not to talk, to rest. She tries to speak, the words clawing at her throat as it burns in protest not quite able to make it out.

Vaguely, she remembers from her feverish state after taking the entire bottle of pills a pair of gentle hands lifting her and the screeching sound of the siren, which she guesses is why her broken heart is still beating and the warmth is still in her skin despite feeling like she's been in an arctic storm. Why did she have to this? Why couldn't her sister have just left her there on the bathroom floor where she could finally have got some peace? The night Amy was torn from her soul, her little sister wasn't there. All those years of playing those sick mind games with her father, her sister had looked right through them, never seeing anything more than a saint and an older sister who wanted to control her.

No, she'd never been there for her then.

But she is here now.

The one time Ronnie doesn't want her baby sister to take care of her for a change, Roxy decides to defy her just like she always does and spoil everything. How could she not see that saving her was pointless?

Ronnie is already dead; her heart stopped beating the moment their baby's did.

Roxy starts to say something, gushing about how she thought she'd lost her only sister, but Ronnie quickly fades out again, unable to cling onto a reality where it hurts far too much to stay; a reality where she can't hear the laughter of her child and where she can't see Jack. She needed Jack and he left her; she needed her baby to make her complete.

But she has failed her baby and Jack has failed her.

Sometimes, she can hardly live with him, almost so used to the pain and hurt that she isn't used the happiness and warmth she feels in her arms that makes her want to tell him about that terrible darkness that is always with her, the blinding love she feels for him almost terrifying.

She can't live without him either. As much as she doesn't want it to, a part of her will always belong to him now but last night when he walked out just when she needed to collapse in his arms he abandoned and tore that piece of her apart.

Ronnie doesn't have Jack, the one person she has come to rely on.

She doesn't have her son, her sweet little son who meant the whole world to her and more.

And soon she won't have Roxy; she will leave her sister again because that's what Roxy does.

There is nothing left worth living for and as soon she is well enough again she will take more pills and finally reach salvation.

Ronnie starts to sink again then, a sharp prick in her arms pumping drugs that will do the opposite of what she wanted into her body.

The darkness closes in and she dreams of her baby and Jack in a world where it is how it should be.

**(About 10 in the morning)**

**Bile** rises in his throat and Jack is fully tempted to let it come, knowing perfectly well he deserves to feel like this; deserves to feel that awful guilt strangling his heart and each nerve inside his body until he feels physically ill with what he has done.

Ronnie had fallen pregnant five months ago and until last night a life had grown inside her that they had both created through love. He had sworn to himself that day that he would protect her no matter what, that he would never hurt her again like he had in the past and that he would do anything for them both.

But now the baby is gone and he has abandoned Ronnie when she needed him the most, when he was the only thing left to hold her together he walked out and let her crumble into a thousand now unobtainable pieces. He has failed the woman he needs more than air, more than anything. _Just like he always does._ It is killing him inside just as much as the raw pain of losing their precious baby that they had both dreamt of holding.

He closes his eyes, hating the sight of the monster staring back at him from the mirror and splashes cold water on his face, the droplets almost stinging his skin, reminding him of the terrible mistake he has made. The events of what happened, how he had woken up in another woman's arms are a blur but he knows that it was the drink's fault; his head is still bursting from the blinding effects, even now the morning his after stopping him from arranging his thoughts clearly. Jack leans into this sink, frantically wetting his face as if it will somehow cleanse him of his sins, desperate to think of something to say to Ronnie when he goes back.

Because he will go back, whether she breaks his heart or not. There was never any question of him not going back to her, as much as she made him hate her last night, as much as she might not want him there. In the end, love has always kept them together; he hopes that it is stronger than the loss driving them apart.

Suddenly furious, he lets out a roar or frustration that he could have been so stupid, so selfish to leave and let her cope with this alone. He opens his eyes and sees that he is crying from red-rimmed eyes, crying for the beautiful woman he has let down time and time again and for their baby. But he has no right to cry; not now. It's Ronnie who had every right to scream and sob after everything that has happened to her and he should have cried with her. Yet instead he is here in a young girl's flat, so he doesn't deserve the right to feel like this, doesn't have any right to grieve without her.

Curling his fist into a tight ball, he throws all his pain and anger at the mirror. It smashes, a long crack carving a path through the delicately splintering glass. He feels a dull throbbing in his knuckles, but it is nothing compared to the pain Ronnie will be feeling. Beads of blood burst forth from his hand where the sharp glass punctured it and he presses it to his bare chest, watching as red smears appear on the place where he touches. Somehow it eases the tight vice of guilt twisting his insides, the crimson droplets making him think clearer than he could before.

Why is he still here feeling sorry himself?

He needs to go back to her and repair the damage that might already be irreparable. For once in his life, he needs to do the right thing and tell Ronnie the truth and hope they can pull through it together.

"Is everything ok in there? I thought I heard something smashing," a chirpy voice calls from outside, making the guilt rise inside him like a hot air balloon again.

"Everything's fine," he calls back. "I just had a bit of an accident,"

He hastily grabs some toilet roll and wraps it around his bleeding knuckles before searching before opening the door and heading back into the woman whose name he never asked for's bedroom.

"I'm sorry about the mirror. I'll give you some money to fix it," he says without looking at the painful reminder of his idiocy.

She shrugs, some of the brown curls that were up in a ponytail falling down and tumbling around her back. Her nightgown is peeled open slightly, revealing part of her pert breasts; it is a sight that would have aroused Jack maddeningly any other time, but now it only makes him feel sick. "Don't worry about it. I'm not stopping here for long anyway. Here," she says holding out her hand. "You had a message while you were in there,"

"Thanks," he mumbles, avoiding contact with her soft skin. He can't remember turning his phone on, but he supposes he must have.

Unlocking it, Roxy's name flashes up on his phone: 7 missed calls and 10 unopened messages. He wonders what Roxy could possibly want, knowing that she never usually gets up before midday. Opening the last two messages he begins to read, his eyes growing wide in horror.

_Jack, where the hell r u? Ron's tried to kill herself. She's gonna be ok, but u have to get here quickly. They're gonna induce her labour soon and she'll need u with her. Hurry up and get here xxx_

_Christ Jack where r u? She won't talk to me. Hurry up and get here. I'm scared. She's not talking and now she's awake she keeps refusing treatment xxx_

He stands in an astounded silence for a moment, before his paralysis breaks and he begins frantically searching under the heap of clothes for his shirt. What has he done? What the fuck has he done?

He knew him leaving would have broken Ronnie's heart even more than it already was broken, but he hadn't realise the full extent of her anguish. Jack hadn't known that he would push a woman so close to the edge of that never ending gulf that she would fall; if he had, he would never have left.

But it's too late for thinking he should have seen it coming now because the worst has already happened. And it's his fault.

Jack has never hated himself as much as he does now.

Wordlessly, he fastens his shirt and heads for the door, not caring about the probably confused woman staring after him. To be frank, he couldn't care less if he has left her feeling pathetic and wondering what is wrong with her to make him walk out like that. He doesn't look back, not once.

In his haste to get to the woman he has made feel that her life is not worth living, he doesn't see that a wicked grin has spread across the Louisa's face and that she now has his phone clutched to her chest, already a devious way to ruin their lives forming in her mind.

**He **watches her chest rise and fall before going in, thanking God that there is still movement beneath the pallid hospital gown. To his relief there is no sign of Roxy and he supposes she must have gone home to Amy for a while. Her stomach is still bloated, perfectly round and still harbouring the now unmoving child, but despite her size he has never seen looking so fragile, as if she will get lost under the gown. Jack pushes open the door and it gives as weary creak as he steps through it.

Ronnie still hasn't seen him, her eyes tightly closed and her arm curled protectively over her waist. He breathes in her complexion, sickly and pasty and far whiter than it should be and clenches his fist until his nails draw blood from his palm; he has done this to her; he has made the woman he is supposed to love like this and now he has to make up for it while he still can.

"Ronnie, darling, it's me. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have left you, this is all my fault. But i'm gonna make it up to you, honey, I promise," he takes her hand, enfolding it in his and presses his lips to it, surprised to find it cold; so very ice cold, like a corpse's.

Slowly, reluctantly, her eyelids flutter open to find the man who left her to break alone last night stood before her, tears of regret swimming in his eyes, but for the first time when she looks at him she doesn't even care what he wants, what he feels or what he thinks. She is sick of Jack, sick of everything. The only thing she wants is her baby, but she can't have that here. Ronnie has detached herself from this world, not wanting to hear his empty promises again, only wanting to close her eyes and let them stay that way.

"Get out," she murmurs, half surprised to find she still has a voice, the dry words ripping her parched throat.

"No," he shakes his head determinedly, smoothing back her hair with her hand. Ronnie hardly notices him doing this, feeling nothing but the emptiness inside of her. "You can say what you like, but i'm not leaving you again. Not ever, Ron,"

"I don't want you here. Get out, Jack. Please, just go,"

He winces at her voice, quiet and rasping, like each word is a struggle for her to say. That isn't what frightens Jack though; it is the lack of anything that scares him. There is nothing but a void behind her eyes, no sense of recognition within her and he could have mistaken her for a stranger if he passed her on the streets. A bead of sweat breaks out on her forehead, colour that suggests that the effects of the pills still aren't quite gone flushing her cheeks and making her look feverish.

"I'm not going anywhere. I understand if you can't forgive me, Ron, but i'm still not leaving. We face this together from now on. We _will _get through this," he says it with such conviction that for a moment he almost believes his own words.

But then he remembers; remembers how he has betrayed her. He wants to tell her, the secret burning a hole in hole in his heart, but he is scared that it would completely destroy her. Ronnie can never find out the truth now. He feels pure disgust swell unbearable inside of him and he can't believe that the same night their child died he went and screwed another woman. It makes him not want to look at Ronnie, the woman he has failed so badly, but he knows he has to.

"I don't want to get through this. I just want you leave me alone. Don't you get it? I wanted to die; I wanted to die because it just hurts too much to be here. Every time I close my eyes all I can see is the darkness and there's no way out," her voice shivers slightly and again she can feel herself being dragged back down by the waves, back to reality, back to the place where is trying so hard not to be. As long as she detaches herself from reality, there is still hope that she'll see her baby again.

Without hope she has nothing left.

He stares at her, loving her so much and hating himself for what he's done, his expression unreadable. He leans forward to kiss her gently on the lips and she lets him, but only because she doesn't have the energy to turn away.

"It'll get better, I promise. Just don't shut me out, ok? I won't let you die, Ron because you have everything worth living for. You have to get better. Please, darling. Do it for me," he murmurs an inch from her face, his warm breath simmering on the iciness of her skin.

She wants him to get out.

She wants to him to hold her.

She doesn't know what she wants anymore, the confusion and his voice forcing her back so once again she feels like an empty shell only containing sorrow.

"I mean it; I want you to get out. There is no 'we', not anymore. You know something, there never was. I used you. I've never loved you, not really. I wanted you because I wanted a baby, but you couldn't even give me that," she sees him flinch as the effects of her words sink in and he draws back and she feels oddly satisfied in knowing that her cruelty will have hurt him unbearable. A small part of her still loves him, still needs him, but letting him back in will mean letting back in the heartache. She wants him gone so she can simply close her eyes again and just dream until she can end it.

"You don't mean that," he whispers, his voice laced with sorrow "I know you don't mean that,"

She watches him standing there, loving her and hating her and she feels something snap inside her, the ache she feels for Jack no longer deniable, not able to stand him seeing so broken and she can't help herself; a sob rips forth from her chest that Jack will never forget for a long time as it almost breaks his heart.

"I'm sorry," she cries into her pillow, not able to look at him anymore, the material muffling the awful sound that only a mother who has lost her child could make.

"Don't ever apologise. Nothing's your fault," he is there in an instant, lifting her into him with strong arms and she grips onto him, her weeping uncontrollable, the tears mingling with his that he hadn't even noticed were falling. One hand clings to him, holding onto his shirt, holding onto life, while the other unconsciously flies to her neck where it clutches a silver heart locket to her chest and he holds her and they begin to grieve together.

"I just want my baby back," she sobs. "I want my baby,"

**I apologise about the length of this. It was never meant to get so long and waffling. Some parts of this I am pleased with, but the hospital scene is just so suckish it makes me cringe. It almost killed me writing it haha. Nm. I guess the ending is quite positive really, but they won't be staying together for too long. Be warned, I may not update for a couple of weeks as I go to Lanzarote for two weeks on Thursday. I will try and update once more before I leave though. Please review!**

**Coming up next: Ronnie finds out what Jack has done and they say goodbye to their baby.**


	8. Defeated

**Yo, folks. This will be my last update as I am off to Lanzarote tomorrow. I'm well annoyed because i'll be missing the Rack moment on either Thursday/Friday D= Nm. Updates will resume in 2 weeks. I thought it was about time Roxy made an appearance, as annoying as I find her to write. Enjoy!**

**(A few hours later)**

Roxy finds Jack with his in his hands and looking fully bedraggled with his untucked shirt coupled with a pair of creased trousers. She inhales deeply before sitting down, raking her fingers through her hair and pulling out her loose bun. A part of her feels immensely relieved that the one person who might be able to get through to Ronnie is finally here, but the weary frustration she has felt towards him all night bursts through first, over- shadowing all other feelings.

"Oi! Where the hell have you been? I called you all last night," she fumes, casting him a glare like a hot summer sun that makes all the flowers wither away.

Giving no sign he has even heard her, Jack doesn't reply at first. His head remains pressed firmly against his palms, his shoulders crumple further under her words and his closed eyes stay fixed on the floor. She feels a sudden burst of anger at him; he should have been there with Ronnie, but instead he managed a disappearing act. This time Roxy isn't going to rest until he tells her what it was that was so pressing that he left her sister the night their baby died, knowing how much it would crush her.

"Tell me where you were, Jack. My sister is lying in there pumped full of drugs because she tried to kill herself and I want to know where the hell you were Jack!"

Jack's dark eyes finally rise to meet her sky blue ones then and he has to force himself not to look away; they are so like Ronnie's eyes that the guilt once again invades his thoughts, pounding him from all angles. Against his will, he forces himself to hold her glare.

Wearily, furiously, she looks at him, feeling her heart sink into a deep and treacherous chasm. This is Amy's father, a man she had thought indestructible, a man she thought nothing could touch, but now that image of him is shattered; all that is left is a dead-eyed shadow carrying the weight of the world on collapsing shoulders. In that instant she sees Jack and only Jack without his arrogant exterior and she feels terrified. If he is falling apart then she hardly even wants to think what Ronnie will be like once she gets out of the hospital.

"I was sorting my head out and I had my phone turned off. I'm sorry," his voice is flat, hollow. He might be replying, but Roxy knows his mind is with her sister.

Tired, she is tempted to let it lie but then she remembers the sight of Ronnie lying there in a foetal position on the bathroom floor, her skin the colour of death with the emptied pill bottle still clutched to her chest, sweat plastering her hair to her forehead; she hears her haunting voice ring inside her head, terrified and asking her, begging her, just to let her die before passing out again. She doesn't want to let it lie, not this time. Not something so important.

"You're sorry?" she hisses, spitting the words into his face as if they are venom. "While you were off gallivanting around Walford my sister could have- she might have-If I hadn't found her she'd be-" her voice shakes, the words snagging in her throat as she realises just how close she came to losing her big sister. "Sorry just isn't good enough this time!"

Tears break free from their prison again, tears she didn't think she was capable of crying; she has already cried so much and she hadn't thought it possible that she might still have more tears left in her. Last night, she had come so dangerously close to losing her sister and it has made her realise just how much she needs her sister's nagging voice in her ear hole. Ronnie might be a pain sometimes- most of the time actually- but she's been the only one who's always been there to catch Roxy the thousands of times she's almost fallen; the only one who has always been there no matter how stupid she has acted.

And she loves her for that; she might resent her most of the time, but she still has no idea how she would cope without her best friend, her big sister, if she'd have...

Ronnie might be alive, but only just, and Roxy is failing to understand how Jack could have walked out on the woman he is supposed to love when she needed him so much.

"You think I don't know that?" he explodes suddenly, striking his fist down so hard on the chair arm that one of the nurses looks around in shock. "I can hardly stand to look at her because it hurts too much knowing that I almost lost her and that it would have been my fault. I'll have to live with it the rest of my life that I almost killed her. Isn't that punishment enough without you yelling in my ear?" he demands, massaging his temples. "And don't you dare criticise me, Roxy, after everything you've done to her,"

"This isn't about me so don't drag me into this, Jack!" she yells back equally furious through her tears, seeing red. "My sister lost her baby and you walked out on her just expecting her to be ok on her own. You knew what this would do to her and yet you still left! How could you?"

The nurse shoots them another irritated glare, but neither of them notices, too focused on each other and the intense argument.

Jack knows she is right, but it only makes him angrier. He doesn't want to hear it, not from Roxy who has hurt Ronnie just as much as he had in the past; the guilt has been pounding relentlessly inside his head all morning and he just wants it to stop. He has been so incredibly stupid and he hates himself for it, hates himself for what he has done to Ronnie. His mistake is eating him up from the inside and he needs to tell someone before it destroys him completely; before the unknown but powerful secret between him and Ronnie destroys them both. He owes her the truth, but he can't bear to tell Roxy what he's done, not wanting to see the disappointment and anger in her eyes. Not before Ronnie knows first. He doesn't want to be the one to completely break her and he knows he is being selfish, but if he doesn't tell her he won't be able to live with himself.

"It isn't just Ronnie who's lost a baby," he says quietly, his voice laced with such sorrow that Roxy's mouth closes as she bites back a sharp statement. Jack turns away from her she can't see the tears beginning to spill from his eyes again, so she can't see the truth and guilt coating his face.

"No, I know," she says softly, all the anger evaporating from her voice leaving only pity for the man breaking before her eyes. "But that doesn't make what you did right. Look, us arguing isn't helping my sister. Let's just forget about this for now ok?"

She tries to smile at him, but it falters noticing the way each shudder, each time he thinks of Ronnie seems to be like a knife is stabbing him between the shoulder blades. Instead, she places a hand on his arm letting him know he isn't forgiven but that for the time being that what he's done is forgotten. To her surprise, he leaps from the chair the moment her hand makes contact with his arm.

Jack doesn't want her sympathy; doesn't deserve her sympathy. He can't bear to have her tell him it's ok because it's not. He can never make what he's done ok. Luckily, at that moment a grim faced doctor arrives, causing Roxy to concentrate him, forgetting whatever it was she was about to say to Jack.

"Miss Mitchell, Mr Branning, the procedure went well. After what happened, we thought it would be best that Miss Veronica was anesthetized to avoid the mental distress for her, so we gave her a caesarean instead. She's awake now and she's asked to see the baby and she wants you there, Mr Branning. We wouldn't normally let her leave the bed after such a serious operation, but given the circumstances...make sure she doesn't put too much stress on her body, ok?"

He nods, taking the wheelchair from the doctor and heading towards room where Ronnie is concealed behind curtains. A hand grabs his arm before he has gone anywhere and he spins around to find Roxy staring at him, her eyes glistening with an expression of intense sadness on her face.

"Jack...i'm sorry. I'm really sorry. Tell her...tell Ron if she wants to talk i'm here,"

He doesn't reply, shrugging off her arm, and she watches him walk away crumbling more with each step.

Defeated.

**They** pause outside the door, the wheelchair coming to a creaking halt. Her eyes rise to meet Jack's, but he doesn't hold her gaze, can't hold her gaze. She knows exactly what he is thinking because she is thinking it too, but she has to go through with this.

Once they open that door it will close behind them and they won't be able to get back through; there will be no more pretending that someday they might wake up from this nightmare; once they see the body of their dead child it will be real, so undeniably real.

But she has to see him, has to hold him. She needs to say goodbye because otherwise she will never let go.

Jack's hand unconsciously finds hers, gripping it tightly like he'll never let go. She grips it back, needing more than ever to feel his presence, to know that he is there with her and won't leave her again. Her eyes close and a shudder seizes hold of her entire body, every thought, every sense warning her not to go in there. Tentative, Jack massages her back and slowly feeling floods back into her limbs and she knows that she has to go in there before she can't.

"Ronnie, I don't know if I can do this," he whispers, his voice broken like his heart, paralysis gripping him.

"Please," she breathes, holding on tightly to his hand when he tries to pull away. "Please, Jack. I need you," her voice is desperate, thick with an emotion and pure irrefutable anguish that somehow holds them together as much as it is pulling them apart.

He turns to look at her and he sees her, really sees her, and he knows that he can't let her down again. Jack doesn't think he will be able to cope seeing their baby, seeing Ronnie break down over its still body, but he won't leave her again. Not if she doesn't want him to. He nods at her, inhaling deeply as he realises that for a moment his breath had caught completely in his chest.

The door opens and they step through it, step into their own version of hell with no way back.

It swings to a menacing close behind them.

There's no turning back now.

Jack wheels Ronnie over to the table where there baby lies as still as a porcelain doll but looking oddly alive under the glow of the hospital light and terror grabs at both of their hearts, neither of them understanding how something so beautiful could have been taken from them, both wanting to break down at thought of something that should have been but what they will never have.

His tiny hands are bunched into defiant fists at his side and a tuft of blonde hair covers his forehead, but leaves visible the small eyelids that will remain forever closed. Ronnie breathes in his every wonderful feature, the emptiness inside of her almost killing her, but she can't bring herself to look away, needing to engrave him on her mind so she won't ever forget. She can hardly believe that something so perfect grew inside of her. He looks like he could be sleeping, the only thing missing his little heartbeat. Without it next to her's Ronnie feels so very alone, more alone and empty than she has ever felt in her life.

But he is so tiny, so very tiny that she knows he would easily fit into Jack's hands if he cupped them together and she just wants to hold him in her arms and never let him go again. Shaking, she reaches out a hand and brushes his cheek, caressing his already freezing skin.

They look at each other, a terrible understanding sparking between them. Both of them want to speak, but neither can quite manage it.

Jack is the first to shatter the silence.

"He's so perfect, Ron. He's gorgeous," he says quietly, stroking her hair carefully, not wanting to break her. He wants to touch his son like Ronnie, but it seems the hardest thing he has ever had to. Desperately, he wants to hold his baby, but he can't bring himself to, not wanting to admit that he really is gone.

"I know. He'd have been like you, I think," he is surprised to see an oddly beautiful smile brightening her whole face and she watches their baby with a love that he has never before seen.

"He looks nothing like me. He has your eyes. And your nose," he can't help but smile back and just for a moment everything is how it should be, them stood there and sharing memories with their child.

But all too soon it will have to end. Because Jack looks at his baby and he knows that he has to tell Ronnie what he did, can't bear being with her otherwise.

"Maybe he does look like me, but he's got his fists clenched like you do whenever you're annoyed or you're concentrating on something," she continues to smile, but it soon falters; she will never know if he'd have been like Jack in the future because Charlie has no future.

He kneels down to her level, taking her hands and pressing them between his own and they admire their son together for a moment before Jack breaks the silence again. A look of guilt passes over his face and he cups her face, willing her to understand how sorry he truly is for walking out on her. There is something else there too, but Ronnie isn't sure what.

"Ron, I love you, I love you so much and I've done something so stupid," he starts, eyes glistening, his thumb gently rubbing her cheek.

"I don't want to know," her voice is cold, blunt. She has never been so sure of anything that whatever it is Jack has done she doesn't want to know, doesn't want anything else to break what little of her that remains. But she also knows that he will tell her anyway; she can see that whatever it is is slowly tearing him apart inside.

"Last night after I left you I was upset and I got drunk and I- oh God Ron- I slept with another woman," he blurts out, the tears for their baby, Ronnie and for his guilt falling freely down his face.

She doesn't say anything because she doesn't know what to say. What he's said, his betrayal, hardly even registers because all that matters is her baby. Maybe a small part of her had already known, but before she didn't want to admit to herself. She knows Jack is sorry, but it doesn't make what's he done any better, doesn't make it right; yet somehow it makes all the difference in the world.

Her eyes close, just wanting everything except Charlie to fade away.

Jack's face in millimetres away from hers and his lips brush against hers, trying to convey his regret through simple touch and for a moment she lets him, wanting to forgive him but not able to.

"Don't. Just don't," she says.

While she was grieving for their child he was out screwing another woman.

It hurts almost too much, but it doesn't really hurt at all.

They both knew in their hearts that the moment Charlie died so did they; it had just taken something like this for them to really see it.

He draws back, not able to look at her any longer.

"It's over isn't it?" he asks, voice resigned to the worst.

She doesn't reply because no answer is needed. Ronnie turns back to her baby, the only thing that really matters and she starts to cry, her shoulders heaving with the double loss.

But this time Jack's arms don't find her.

And he does something he swore he would never do to her again: he walks away, but this time he believes it is the best thing for both of them.

He walks away and he leaves her singing a heart-wrenching lullaby to their dead baby.

Defeated.

**I'm pretty sure a baby is fully formed at five months, but sorry if i'm wrong. Well, miserable as this was I actually rather enjoyed writing it and revelled in their unhappiness xD It killed writing from Roxy's POV, but I hope it went ok. Tehee, it will be amusing to write Roxy's reaction when she finds out what jack has done. I know some parts of this are extremely crap, but I wanted this posted before I went so yeah. Well, better go and choose some books to take now i'm done with this. Please review!**

**Coming next- Archie turns up at the hospital, but how will Ronnie react to the man who gave away her first baby being there?**


	9. Alone

**I told myself I was gonna write this on holiday, but instead I thought up this epic plot for a thriller novel and concentrated on that. Lanzarote was crap, btw. Too hot and there was no Eastenders. Also my toe now kills because I somehow managed to trap it in my hair straighters, burn it and then I tripped walking up some stairs and burst the blister and got an infection xD Good times. Hope you enjoy this (:**

She wakes up with a start, her heart thudding painfully inside her chest and drenched in sweat, but doesn't yet open her eyes because she doesn't want to face the empty world waiting for her. Someone is in the room watching over her and she is desperate for it to be Jack, but Jack is also the last person she ever wants to see after earlier. Archie places a hand on her arm to soothe her, still loving the way her skin feels against his. It has been years since he has touched her like this, but it still sends that same electric shock coursing through his blood, the animal inside him roaring in pleasure; he loves Veronica more than anyone in the world and soon she will have no choice but to love him back just like she used to.

Because she will have no else left; he will make sure of that.

When she was a little girl, he always loved to watch her sleeping. He used to stroke her hair and caress her smooth, young skin and sometimes he would slip into her bed and hold her shaking body close, their hearts beating together in an unnatural rhythm. She used to let him back then, never questioning his love, never denying him. They had both enjoyed their special relationship that no one else would ever have understood. Fury simmers inside of him at the thought of an arrogant bastard like Jack Branning touching his little angel in the same way he used to touch her.

But it doesn't matter now; Jack, the only person she really trusts is out of the way and he will ensure it stays that way. Roxy shouldn't be much of a problem, their relationship has been laboured ever since Amy and he has always been able to play them off against each other, make them hate each other.

He keeps rubbing her arm, stroking her hair and simply watching her, praying that soon she'll let him love her again. "Veronica?" he whispers, voice unnaturally smooth. "Are you awake, darling?"

Her eyes snap open at the sound of his voice, blood shot and afraid and suggestive of the fact that sleep has brought her no peace. Hatred crumples her face and fills her eyes making Archie want to shake her and force her to love him, but that won't work anymore. He needs to lull her into feeling secure with him, lull her into worshiping him again and then she will do what he wants.

"Why are you in here? Get out," she orders, hissing the words as if she were spitting gravel into his face.

Anger seizes him and it takes all of his self control not to grab her and shock some sense into her; he never could stomach it when Veronica tried to tell him what to do and not what to do. Archie is the one who should always be in charge; Archie is the master, Veronica just the little girl who serves him; his beautiful daughter who should live to please him. He isn't sure why he let her extend the shackles this far, should never have let their relationship become so strained. "Now Veronica, I know you're upset about Charlie, we all are, but that's no way to speak to your father,"

"Don't say his name. Don't you dare say his name; you have no right. You're no father of mine, you bastard" she rolls over and reaches for her buzzer. "Get out before I get security to throw you out,"

A cold, hard, unstoppable fury rises and spits like a cobra inside his chest then and he can no longer control himself. Veronica has been like this for years: an insolent stubborn little brat. He should never have let it carry on for so long and he refuses to let her speak to him like this now when he is only trying to help her. True, he may have helped destroy her feelings for the man she loved, but it was for her own good like everything else she hates him for. She doesn't need Jack just like she never needed Joel because in the end they will only abandon her.

The only person she can always rely on to love her is her Daddy and how she reacts next is a confirmation that the little girl who once doted on him is still in there somewhere, hidden behind twenty years of bitterness and longing for the baby that was born in disgrace. His hand closes around her arm and he pulls her back, feeling oddly satisfied when her nails claw at the back of his wrist; she always used to fight him as she grew up, but the further she tried to pull away from him the more he always loved and wanted her obedience. Just for a moment, fear sparks behind her eyes and he catches the glimpse of that lost child hating her father but needing his love to make herself whole; the little girl who idolised her Daddy and wanted desperately to be free but couldn't help pleasing him. He knows that part of her always felt invigorated by their little arguments as he did; like father like daughter.

"What are you doing? Get off me. Why are you doing this? Just please get out. I don't want you here," she tries to free her arm, but it is like trying to escape a vice: impossible. He feels him go limp and his heart swells with satisfaction with the knowledge that he can still control Veronica as easily now as he could when she was a child.

"You're my daughter, Veronica. I'm here to help you," he pulls her arm closer to him and she can't help but wince in pain as she is forced to move closer, all the time resisting the urge to heave against his evil breath.

"You mean like you helped me when I was 14? When I needed my Dad to support me and all you did was take my little baby who was just a few hours old. I don't want your help. I_ hate_ you,"

The baby. It always comes back to the stupid baby, the awful reminder that his daughter had acted like some filthy whore. Even though the ache is still prominent in her eyes, Archie feels no guilt at what he did, having no doubt that it was for the best. A part of him even remembers feeling pleased when that heart breaking cry pierced for night as screamed after him for her baby; he loves submission, but he loves the struggle between them even more. When he wins, which he always does, it makes the victory so much sweeter

"You might not want my help, but you need it just like you did then," he states, grabbing her chin with his other hand and forcing her to look at him, willing her to understand.

"I'd die before I let you help me,"

"Where's Jack?" he asks, turning away to grin in joy.

His words strike a nerve; she has so far avoided thinking about Jack and the depth of his betrayal, but her father's simple question brings the weight of the grief at being abandoned by him yet again crashing back down. She closes her eyes, trying to forget again as the red rope of love around her heart that is impossible to untie tightens painfully.

"He's gone for a bit," she whispers, not able to face her Dad's gloating face if she bears the truth to him.

"Exactly. He's gone and i'm here. What does that tell you? I care about you more than anyone," he murmurs, finally releasing her arm and talking as if she were a baby.

She looks up into his face that is crinkled like a fallen autumn leaf, lingering on his hardened eyes. The unspoken meaning behind his words is true; she has no one left but a father she hates. Jack has made his choice and she knows full well she will not be able to stand the sight of Roxy, not knowing that she has a baby with Jack and that she prevented her from being reunited with Charlie. Desperately, she wants to believe that he does care, the child in her suddenly and inexplicably resurfacing and wanting to be wrapped in the safety of her parent's arms. She wants to believe that he is something more than the evil man who took her Amy and made her feel as pathetic and dirty as vermin.

But she can't bring herself to forgive the things he has done and she has known him and been manipulated by him far too long to be taken in by his gentle words. They are the things that any normal father would say to his child, but Archie has never been a normal father to her. A normal father doesn't tear away the pieces of his daughter's heart and laugh as he tramples all over them.

"Do you know what I was dreaming?" she asks quietly, the change of subject momentarily startling him. Recovering, Archie shakes his head, thinking it best to let her speak. At least she is talking now, which is a lot more than she was willing to do a moment ago. "I was dreaming that I could hear a baby crying out for its mum and I was trying to get to it, but I was trapped. Trapped in this awful, dark, room with no way out and the crying kept fading and I was desperate to help the baby, but I still couldn't find my way out so I screamed and I screamed but when I stopped the crying had stopped to and I'd never felt so alone," she pauses, tears stinging her eyes, the nightmare as fresh and real as any true memory.

"Then suddenly this door appeared and I didn't want to go through it but I knew I had to so I stepped through and you were there, Dad, standing with your back to me. I couldn't see you clearly but I knew you were holding my baby and that he was dead. I tried to scream but I couldn't make a noise and I tried to reach for him, but I couldn't move either. And you know what you did, Dad? You turned around and Charlie was limp in your arms and I sobbed at you to help him but all you did was laugh and tell me that I was better off without some pathetic baby," she completes the narration, tears falling freely and unashamedly now, wracking her whole body.

They are the exact words he said to her the night she gave birth to her first wretched daughter and he is lucky that this one is already dead otherwise he would have to find some way to dispose of it; with a baby, he would never have any chance of winning back Veronica, but luckily the little brat has already been dealt with by fate.

He turns away to conceal a smirk spreading across his face. It is clear to him that Veronica is slowly going in insane, losing the plot in her anguish and it will make it so much easier to make her love him again. He knew she would be vulnerable, but with Jack out of the way she is already broken and he will play the caring father, the only person he loves her enough to dare and put her back together again. Of course, he doesn't really have any intentions of fixing her.

He intends to hide the shards from her broken heart in places she will never find and then she will be his forever.

Gently, he touches her cheek, but she flinches away from him and again anger flares inside him. Why did Veronica always have to be so stubborn? Roxanne had never behaved this way, but then he supposes that's why his relationship with his eldest daughter is so special.

"Why did you have to take her? I was her mother and she was my beautiful little girl and you took her," she questions, voice as blank and disinfected as the hospital walls.

This is the point where he knows he could fall and fail, so he tries to force as much conviction into his voice as possible. It is vital he makes her believe that what he did was for her own good.

"I did it for your own good. You were still just a child yourself, Veronica, and you weren't ready to be a mother," he whispers softly removing himself from his chair and getting up to pace the room, to make it look like he really means it.

"I might have been young but I wanted her more than anything. Why wasn't that enough?"

"It might have been enough for you, but it wasn't enough for a newborn baby. She needed someone who could take care of her correctly," he says carefully, urging her to believe that he did it for the baby and not just because he couldn't stand the thought that a part of her and Joel would be living in their house.

"You could have helped me. You're my Dad and I needed you to help me, but instead your ruined my life," she rolls over, turning away from him and just misses the scowl spreading across his face; winning back Veronica is proving harder than he thought.

"Listen, I've spent every day regretting what I did because it meant I lost my little girl and it almost killed me seeing what taking that baby did to you. If I could change things I would, but it's too late now. Everything I ever did was only for Amy and for your own good," he lies easily, the words flowing more smoothly now as he finds a rhythm.

"And I suppose you think Charlie being a still born is for my own good too?"

"Of course not," he exclaims, feigning shock and horror. "That's completely different,"

"No, no it isn't. Just get out, Dad. Get out," she demands with a forced tone of finality, her stubbornness making her determined not to believe even though he sounds so sincere. She needs to believe him, needs her father back more than ever, but she is afraid of letting him get close now, especially after what happened with Jack. The people close to you only ever hurt you.

"I only want to help you, Veronica, remember that. Just ask if you need me," he starts to leave then, pausing with a grin at the door handle as her sweet voice calls his name. He knew he had won, he saw the desperate need for someone, anyone, to hold her behind her eyes and he is the only one left.

"She must hate me, Dad. God she must really hate me for giving her up when she was just a few hours old. But do you think she's happy?"

He returns to her side immediately. "Of course she's happy. Why do you think I made you give her up? It was to ensure she lived a long and happy life which is something she could never have had with us,"

Shaking, her hand reaches for his simply because she can no longer feel the comforting presence of her son in her stomach and because Jack's hand will no longer be there to hold. So she grabs onto her father's hand because there is nothing else to grab, no longer blaming him, but needing him to help her. Before she can stop herself, she starts to cry again and he rubs her back, just has he had when she was a child.

A sickening, triumphant grin slips onto his evil face as he strokes her back without her knowing that he doesn't want to help at all, that he only wants to drain her life away. Thoughts of how he used to run his hands over every inch of her soft skin run through his mind, and he wants to touch her and hold her as he did then, but he knows that she isn't ready yet.

But she will be ready soon.

In time, Veronica will be ready to let him love her.

**Don't like this one bit and i'm really losing inspiration for this and want to start something else :K Archie sound evil enough? OMG. I'm obsessed with Patricia Cornwall's novels. I adore how sciency they are and I now really want to observe an autopsy, which isn't odd at all ;P Not read them, read them! Thanks for your reviews so far! Much appreciated.**

**Next time: Ronnie leaves the hospital and goes to collect her things. Can Jack stop her from leaving him?**


	10. No Place Like Home

**Thanks for reviewing, folks. Much appreciated (: Well, I got a voluntary job on a farm- should be fun! Also I got another job at a vet's surgery which is good seeing as that's what I wanna be some day. This chapter is loosely inspired by the song 'Ungodly Hour' by The Fray. Give it a listen while you read. Enjoy! =D**

It's been three days since he left Ronnie sobbing over the body of their dead child.

It's been three days, but for all he knows several years might have passed.

He no longer has any sense of time and every time he looks at the clock only minutes have elapsed, but somehow each minute has become an hour and each hour a year. So now he avoids the frosty glare of the clock, instead nursing a cup of coffee as if somehow the steam will cleanse away his heart rendering guilt and pain.

But nothing works; it is impossible to carry the weight of what he has done and erase the sight of their baby's body laid out like a piece of meat ready to be cut on an inhospitable slab of metal. Every time he closes his eyes he imagines how cold he must have felt on the icy silver and he regrets not picking him and drawing him into the warmth of his body.

And he sees Ronnie in everything too, the evidence around their home of her painful to look at, each object holding a tragically beautiful memory; a few months ago they had chosen a new sofa after Ronnie decided that the cream leather wouldn't be suitable once the baby arrived so together they bought a new one and now Jack remembers how he they had sat there while he teased her about wanting to name the child Jim if it was a boy after a family tradition and her giving him a playful swipe saying that under no circumstance she would call the baby Jim. Furiously, he tries to blink the memory away but it strangles his heart in a struggle to keep taunting him. He half wishes he had never met Ronnie so his life would still be the same and he would never have felt this way, but even more he needs to cling onto the blissful memory so there's still a chance that all of this might not be over. As long as she remembers all the good times like he does, maybe she can forgive him even if he doesn't deserve it.

Earlier, he had managed to convince himself that leaving Ronnie was for the best, that it was what they both needed, but now he knows he was wrong and only fooling himself; as usual, he was being selfish. He knows that Ronnie still needs him and without him she might not make it through this, but he just couldn't face being with her after what he did. He will make it up to her though; he will have to.

Raking his hands through his hair, he releases the breath he hadn't know he was holding and drags himself up from the kitchen table. He carefully tucks under the chair and his arms stiffen when he realises that this is the same chair Ronnie knocked over when they'd argued and he'd stormed out. They have argued before, but never like that, and although they both said things they didn't mean, Jack knows he could still have behaved better; he should have been taking care of her, not turning against her.

If he could turn back time, he would do it without hesitation, but he can't; he can't go back to the start when everything was happy as much as he wishes it.

It's too late and his eyes burn with tears when he realises he has probably screwed them up forever.

**Ronnie** pauses at the bottom of the stone steps, her mind freezing at the sight of the door that only four nights ago Jack slammed behind him and left her sobbing on the floor. The moment it closed an unbreakable wall of betrayal and distrust rose up between them and now Ronnie doubts if either of them will ever be able to climb over it again. She doesn't want to see Jack because he only serves as a painful reminder of what has happened, but she can't help that every inch of her skin aches to be in his arms where she can look into his eyes and loose herself in them. No matter what he has done, she can't just stop herself from feeling something towards him.

She doesn't love him, she can't after what he told her.

But that doesn't mean she's stopped caring about him; she knows that to hate someone, to hate him as much as she does now, you have to care about them first.

Sucking in a deep breath, she tucks her blonde waterfall of hair behind her ears and hobbles to the door, hardly noticing the searing pain from her caesarean rippling across her stomach. She hardly notices anything anymore apart from her grief. It takes all her willpower not to turn and run from the place where she was almost reunited with her baby, where she could nearly feel the gentle weight of him moving around inside her stomach again before her sister cruelly snatched them apart. Now she can hardly remember what if felt like to have another heart beating so close to hers, and the memory of his small cherub face is already beginning to fade from her memories, the more she tries to cling on, the further away it slips.

Ronnie remembers all the times she shared with Jack in there; the night they made love when Charlie was conceived on top of the covers, their mouths crashing together, bodies arching in unison and how he held her close afterwards and told her he loved her, told her he needed her. Deep down, she knows she is here because she needs to see him one last time even though it will only rub salt in the wound instead of bringing closure. When she was younger, she had sworn to herself that she would never become reliant on anyone, but then Jack came along and he saw straight through her icy facade and she has loved and hated him for that. He had laughed with her at her best, cried with her at her worst and she needs to make the end of this final before she can start rebuilding that wall around her.

She raises her hand then and she knocks, her knuckles stinging at the sudden contact. It feels odd not just getting out a key and walking in like she used to, but it isn't her home anymore. Her possessions might still be in there and it might be her house, but a home is something that defines you, somewhere you feel you can always return to when there's no where left to go; a home isn't just bricks and mortar. Everything that made it her home is gone: her relationship with Jack is dead, their baby is dead and she wishes that she was dead. She doesn't have a home anymore and she can't even summon the energy to care.

"Jack, it's me. Please will you let me in?"

The curtains that are closed flutter briefly and then she hears his footsteps thudding towards the door, then the mechanical sound of the key twisting in the lock. Like her, Jack has erected a barrier around himself to shut out the rest of the world, the only difference being his is a physical barrier whereas she has just completely shut down. She wants to turn back, not even sure why she has come when she could have just sent Roxy to get her things.

Hinges groaning, the door swings open and she stares fixedly at the floor. She can't stand to look him in the eye. Facing him will meaning accepting what he has done, accepting the betrayal and accepting that she can't stay with him anymore.

The silence is deafening and she wants to say something, anything just to break it because it reminds her far too much of that moment when the nurse ran the heart monitor across her stomach and only nothing greeted her.

"So they discharged you?" he asks, clearing his throat, unaware of the shiver spiralling down Ronnie's spine at the sound of his voice.

It feels as if the breath has been knocked from her as she hears his voice and it goes against every instinct in her body not just to fling her arms around his neck and cry into his shirt while he holds her. She shuts her eyes, shuts him out.

Closing her eyes to stop her seeing something she doesn't want to is always an option, but she can't close her heart to shut out her feelings. It just isn't possible. Earlier, she had fooled herself into believing that she no longer loves him, but she does love him. Just because he slept with another woman, she can't bring herself not to love the man who held her hand, who kissed her, who created a life with her.

"Ronnie?" he steps forward and takes her hand in his, caressing the back of it.

Her eyes widen and she stumbles backwards, knowing that if she lets Jack catch her she will sink into a state of empty existence with him looking after her and won't be able to get back up again.

"Can I come in? I need to get my things," she still won't look him in the eye and she quickly side steps him and enters his home. "I won't be long,"

Jack lets her pass, his silence speaking volumes, stiffening as if an icy buffet of cold air has winded him. Seeing what he's done to her is almost too much; her voice is flat and cold, her hair straggly around her face and she can't even bare for him to touch her. Although her abdomen is still swollen, she looks so tiny and alone just like Charlie did back in the hospital.

"Look, Ron, i'm really-"

"I don't want to hear it," she cuts across him, forcing as much contempt in her voice as possible, sharp, cold.

Final.

He falls silent again, stung by the bluntness of her words with the realisation that Ronnie will never forgive him for what he has done. She was already broken beyond repair, but he had just collected the pieces and thrown into a deep gulf where no one can find them.

Wrapping her arms around her waist, she heads into the bedroom she can no longer think of as hers. She wishes she could sink into the soft covers and curl up into a ball and just sleep for hours without disturbance. Jack trails behind her, his shoulders hunched and his eyes weary and sad. A part of her feels guilty for doing this to him, shutting him out when he needs her almost as much as she needs him. But she shouldn't feel guilty and she can't go back there, back to her dead baby's father. She pulls out a suitcase from under the bed, a small cry escaping her lips when a tiny woollen sock appears along with it. Ronnie bends down to pick it up and she turns it gently over in her hands.

The sight of Charlie lying there on that slab of metal is an image Ronnie has somehow managed to avoid, but the little sock in her hand brings the realisation that he is gone forever and that she will never see him again come crashing back. She didn't even say goodbye; she held him and sang him a lullaby, but she never said goodbye because if she didn't then maybe there was a chance he might still wake up. Now an ache that has nothing to do with her operation throbs throughout her entire body and shakes her soul with regret. She begins to tremble, tears once again staining her face. Ronnie will wipe them away, but it doesn't make any difference as they have already given her a permanent mark of sorrow.

Jack watches her, not sure how to react; he wants to hold her, but he knows she won't let him and he wants to leave, almost resenting what this has done to them. The baby is a dead shadow between them, forcing them apart as much as they need to be together, but you can't touch a shadow and Jack doesn't know how to beat it without hurting them both.

"I can't do this," she begins to back away, just another thing she is running away from in her life. She has to escape but she gets caught in a prison of her own anguish. She doesn't know where to go, but she knows it can't be here. "I'll get Roxy to come over,"

"Don't go," he moves towards her and for the first time she looks at him, looks him in the eye. It is something that will haunt her for a long time. She sees all the things she expected to see, love, regret, sadness, but there is also a flicker of something else, something she recognises from when her dad took Amy out of her arms: anger. "Please don't leave, you don't have to"

He blames her. Jack blames her for their son dying. He blames her and that's why he left her. He blames her and now he wants her to stay so he can keep hurting her and punishing her.

"Yes, yes I do," she says, gulping hard and fighting another outburst of tears.

Jack blocks her path to the door, his body now unbearably close to hers. She can feel his breath against her, is warmed by the heat radiating from his body. He grabs her wrists, gently, forcefully, and pulls her impossibly close.

"I love you," he whispers. "I can't do this on my own. I'm sorry about what happened, really sorry. Let me make it up to you. Just don't leave, ok?" he presses his forehead against hers, an arm encircling her waist.

She tries to move away from him, but he won't let her. And she doesn't really want to move away from him, but she desperately needs to escape.

"You love me so much you slept with another woman. You love me so much, that while we were saying goodbye to our baby you told me you screwed another woman,"

He steps back, startled. It is the first time Ronnie has acknowledged that he cheated on her and it makes it somehow all more real, more raw. That terrible feeling of guilt and horror once again returns, ensnaring all his senses in its vicious grasp. What if she'd have died? What would he have done had he returned and found her dead on the floor? What if he'd had to look at her body with their son's and he had to bury Ronnie too? All the thoughts spin around his head with malice and he has to force away the sight of her lying there like a child in the bathroom.

Suddenly, he can't think clearly, the drums in his head pounding. Reality and fiction become blurred and he is hardly sure if the woman stood before him is a ghost. He wouldn't, couldn't possibly forgiven himself if she'd have succeeded in killing herself. If he hadn't have left then she wouldn't have tussled with death. But it doesn't really matter because Charlie would still be dead and Ronnie still wouldn't want to live; she would have tried to take her own life all the same eventually, but he can't stop blaming himself.

"I know," he takes her chin in his hand, tilting her face towards his to remind him that she really is still alive. "It was a goddamn stupid and awful drunken mistake. I didn't mean to hurt you. I love you and i'm so sorry," pulling her towards him, he tries to urge her to understand by kissing her and showing her how much he loves her, but she flinches and wrenches herself away from him.

He grimaces at her rejection, the small chasm between them widening further. It fills him with sadness to know that they used to be so close, but now she won't even let him hold her.

"I know why you did it, Jack," she sounds oddly acceptant as she speaks, finally regaining some of her composure now she has escaped Jack's arms. She can think clearly again now without him whispering meaningless promises in her ear. "You think it's my fault Charlie died. You wanted to punish us both,"

A cloak of silence descends upon the room then.

Time snags like a zip.

"You think I blame you?" he breathes, incredulous. "Of course I don't blame you, Ron. It's no one's fault," A spark of anger fizzles inside him for the first time and he can't explain it. "And not everything is about the baby! I was angry at you for pushing me away when I needed you,"

"So you're saying it's my fault now are you, Jack? You're saying that me grieving gave you a cause to go and screw another woman? I needed you and where were you? Out banging some whore in a seedy B&B and that's supposed to be my fault!"

Red flashes before her eyes, anger erupting inside her for the first time. For the first time, the full force of Jack's betrayal hits her. She has been concentrating on her grief, but now she finally registers that he really did leave and really did abandon and deceive her in the worst way he could ever have done,

"Of course it isn't your fault," he exclaims furiously, shutting his eyes and trying to remember that it is him who has done with to them, not Ronnie. But she can't act like she is completely blameless because she isn't; she told him to get out, told him to leave her. And now she is acting like he is the only one who has made a mistake.

They both fall silent and she watches Jack breathe heavily in an attempt to regain control of his temper. It seems an alien thought to her that she once laid her head on his chest when now the thought of him holding her makes her feel sick. Ronnie doesn't understand how the gentle man who made her feel so in love can be so selfish; she doesn't understand how he can tarnish the memory of their baby and not even seem to care. In this instant, she knows it really is over for them. She can never forgive him now.

"How come we always end up fighting each other, Ron? I love you, but maybe it was for the best Charlie died if he'd have grown up surrounded by this," the callous words slip from his mouth before he can stop them and he instantly regrets them, not meaning a single word of what he said. A small part of him wants to wound Ronnie though, wants her to hurt just a bit more for being so selfish.

Fury contorts her face and before either of them have time to prepare, she is hurtling towards him and her open palm collides with his cheek. The sound of her skin like a whip against his resounds, simmering in the air. Immediately, red bursts across his skin and he touches a hand to the place where she struck him, burning him to the very core to know that this is the last time Ronnie will ever touch him again.

"He was my baby and if you'd have been there or not I loved him, so don't you dare say that this was for the best! Don't you ever even suggest it, you bastard!"

"Oh God, Ronnie. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. You know I didn't mean that,"

She storms past him, clutching the doorframe as she goes to stop herself from collapsing in tears to the floor where she won't be able to drag herself back up from. The pain in her abdomen now clouds her thoughts, the pain so completely raw as the doctor said it would be if she over exerted herself. Vaguely, she hears Jack calling after her, but she shuts out his words, not even caring what he has to say. She doesn't ever want to see him again, doesn't ever want to hear his voice. Not even her father had said it was a good thing that Charlie died. Before, there was a small chance that maybe they could be saved, but not now. Not ever. The damage is irreparable.

So she keeps running, clutching her stomach as if it will somehow stop the throbbing. She keeps running, leaving behind Jack and everything to do with her old life, but she doesn't really have anywhere new to run to. Her hair flops around her face and it begins to rain, the droplets catching on her bare arms. A shiver seizes her, but she doesn't stop running until all her limbs scream in protest and it is physically impossible to go any further. She sinks to the floor, not caring where she is, not caring she's in the middle of a path. She doesn't even have the energy to cry anymore.

A door opens behind her.

"Veronica?" her eyes widen; she hadn't realised that she was outside her father's house. "Has something happened, darling? Come inside, you'll catch your death out here," he gestures behind him, a smile that could be kind or could be devious breaking out on his face. She doesn't really care which it is anymore.

Ronnie only has one choice now. She has been locked in a room with only one door out, so to speak. She can't go back to Jack and maybe it is finally time that she accepts that maybe her Dad did only take Amy for her own good. He, at least, has tried to be there for her unlike Jack. Heaving herself to her feet, she walks towards him, happy for the first time since she was a little girl that her Dad is here.

Archie's smile remains fixed in place and when Ronnie reaches him he wraps an arm around her shoulders and she lets him, leaning into him because there is no one else left to lean on.

In order to move forward, she has to leave behind everything in her old life, in her past.

She has to create a new identity for herself.

She can't be Ronnie Mitchell anymore: mother of a stillborn baby, ex of Jack Branning.

This is her home now and she is nothing but the daughter of Archie:

Veronica.

He shuts the door behind them.

And she walks willingly into hell with the devil as company.

**Well, I waffled far too much in this. I know this is going slow, but it should pick up pace within the next couple of chapters. Jack totally deserved that- the selfish git 0.o Hey, guess what, I bought the Cats original cast recording at last and now I have 20 items in my Sarah Brightman collection =D Only another like 100 things to go. Next i'm gonna get Nightingale. **


	11. Unforgivable

**Thanks for your review Shonagh (: I'm getting so lazy with this fic xD I cba to write for it. Hope you enjoy the chapter and please review (:**

**A few hours later.**

He doesn't move from the room for a long time after she leaves, not able to bring himself to sit in an empty lounge that he once shared with Ronnie. Jack can't cope with the thought that this time he really has pushed her too far, that she won't come back this time. In the past they have argued so many times, but somehow they have always come back to each other, needing the time apart to realise how much they need each other. But this time is different and Ronnie will never forgive him.

And he doesn't blame her.

What he said was stupid; unforgivable. He didn't mean a word of it, but there's no point in wishing he hadn't said it because the damage is already done now.

It occurs to him that the door is probably still open, but he doesn't really even care about that. What does it matter if someone takes all his possessions when everything that is really important to him has already left? He wonders where Ronnie has gone, knowing that she won't have gone to the Vic with baby Amy there; he wonders if she is in pain from her operation and can't move to find help or if she's done something stupid and is lying in a ditch somewhere while the life slowly drains from her, alone and frightened. It'll be his fault if anything happens to her, his fault if Roxy loses and sister and Amy loses an Auntie.

He won't go looking for her though, can't face feeling like someone has thumped him in the stomach every time he catches sight of the bitter sorrow in her eyes that he has caused, and he doesn't think he can cope if she rejects his help, rejects him again even though he deserves nothing but that. Most of all, he doesn't want to be the one to find her cold, stiff body as if if he isn't the one to find her then he can't be blamed and it won't be real.

Jack catches himself, gulping hard and blinking away the tears that spring to the forefront of his mind at the thought of having to say goodbye to Ronnie while knowing that the last thing he ever said to her were the cruellest words he could have spoken. She is probably fine, and, if he knows her at all, will be drowning away the pain in a pub somewhere. As much as he tries to convince himself, he can't shake off the feeling that something terrible has happened to her even though he knows he is just being stupid.

Furiously, he massages his temples as if trying to rid himself of some unseen demon. Death seems to have charge of his life; first it took his child in its unforgiving cradle, then it forced apart him and Ronnie and now it is invading his thoughts too, gripping his mind and relentlessly poisoning his thoughts with its spite. It has seeped into every corner of his personal life and he keeps trying to escape it, but it is impossible to run from death. He touches his cheek that has turned red and still smarts from where Ronnie's hand struck it, death's most recent mark and reminder that it always wins in the end.

"Jack? You in here?" Roxy's voice startles him and he hears her footsteps pacing quietly around the room.

He doesn't reply at first and he wonders if she knows what he's done, what he's said.

"Jack, I need to talk to you. Did you know the door was open? Anyone could have came right on in,"

Dragging himself to his feet, he heads into the living room, knowing that Roxy won't leave until she has commanded his attention.

"What do you want?" he asks, not caring if he sounds rude, blunt.

She seems flustered, her hair unruly as if it had an argument with the wind. Amy is snuggled against her chest, her small eyes bright and wide, her fist clenched around her mum's necklace. He can hardly stand to look at her, Amy reminding him far too much of his tiny son and because she is just another way he broke Ronnie's heart. Roxy's eye brows knot in the middle at his words in frustration and annoyance at him as she shoots him a furious glance.

"What I want is to know what you said to my sister to make her go and live with Dad,"

It's like an invisible weight has been lifted off his shoulder and he suddenly feels much lighter, breathing a sigh of relief now he knows Ronnie is safe. He can go back to being angry at her now; it's always easier to be angry at someone than it is to love someone and admit you acted selfishly.

"It's none of your business what goes on between me and Ronnie. And I don't care where she is, ok?" he snaps angrily, irritated that the woman who betrayed her sister with the man she loved is acting all high and mighty. A part of him just wants her to leave him the hell alone so he can just go to sleep and forget everything, but another darker part of him needs this argument, needs someone to take out his anger at Ronnie, at the world, on.

"What the hell is wrong with you? First you walk out on her, then you let her go again knowing full well that she might do something stupid! And don't act like you don't care, Jack because I know you do," Amy shifts in her arms and utters a tiny cry and she starts to rock her back and forth like a sailboat, knowing that a tantrum is approaching. "Don't worry Amy, Daddy's a bit grumpy today,"

Jack bites back an angry retort, disgust suddenly rising like bile in his throat. Hearing Roxy state so frankly what he has done makes him feel repulsed with himself that he could ever have been angry, blamed Ronnie for any of this mess when it's all his fault and all she did was grieve for her baby. He should have been there for her, should have just held her instead of hurting her with his poisonous words and making everything about himself like he always does. Jack needed someone to blame, someone to hurt so it took away the pain of losing a child and he lashed out at Ronnie because of that. Now he has lost her.

"It doesn't matter what I said. It's over. She hates me and it's my fault,"

All his energy seems to leave him and he feels inexplicably tired and heavier than he should do. He slumps down to the sofa and his head sinks to meet his hands. Quietly, Roxy makes her way over and sits next to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder that he shrugs off; he wants to her to yell at him, to hit him, anything but show that concern that is now flaring behind her blue eyes. Jack doesn't want her sympathy, doesn't deserve it.

"Don't be stupid, Ron doesn't hate you. She needs you, Jack. You need to face this together. I don't know what you said, but just go find her and tell her you're sorry ok?"

He looks up and nods meekly, feeling a surge of affection for the mother of his daughter. She gives him a small smile and he wants to smile back, but can't quite manage it. Jack looks down at Amy who is now sleeping soundly in Roxy's arms, her thumb jammed firmly inside her mouth. Roxy is right; they need each other and Jack has to get her back, he has to try. Even if she tells him she hates him, he won't stop trying until he gets her back.

Silence lingers between them for a moment, but then they both look up hopefully as they hear the door close with a sense of finality. Jack preys it's Ronnie, that she's come back, that somehow she will find it within her to forgive him.

"Hello," a young, chirpy voice calls and jolts all his senses. Roxy turns to look at him in confusion, her eyes glaring suspiciously and burrowing into him. "It's Louisa. I've just come to give you your phone back from the other night,"

She materialises in the doorway and he feels his heart stop beating as the atmosphere in the room turns as cool as an arctic breeze. Her brown locks tumble in an unruly manner down her shoulders and her face has that smoothness of youth that he chose not to notice the other night. She is young enough to be his daughter, has probably only just left school.

"I guess you left by accident. I would have brought it back sooner, but it's taken a while to go through the numbers and find someone that knew where you lived, you know?" she rambles, inviting herself in and beaming at them both, seemingly unaware she has just ruined everything.

He can feel Roxy's gaze on him again, her eyes hotter than fire. Jack doesn't dare look at her, can't face her anger because it will only make that awful feeling of guilt come back again that makes him want to claw out his insides to get rid of it.

"You slept with her," her voice is dangerously low. It isn't a question; there is no need for it to be a question.

She already knows the answer because it explains everything.

His guilty silence speaks volumes and anger clouds her thoughts. Roxy wants to yell and scream him, wants to demand to know how he could do this to Ronnie after what had just happened to them.

"You never change, do you, Jack?" she leaps to her feet, her voice commanding him to look at her and he does. He looks disgusted with himself, but it isn't enough to ease her anger, to make it right. Nothing can make what he's done right. "You know something, Ron doesn't need you. She's better off on her own than with some cheating bastard so you stay the hell away from her!"

A wave of numbness washes like water over him. He has lost Ronnie and now he has lost the friendship of the mother of Amy as well. Again, Roxy is right. Ronnie doesn't need someone who keeps hurting her, but that doesn't stop him needing her back and he will get her no matter what Roxy says.

In the corner, Louisa stands awkwardly, shuffling from foot to foot, the phone clutched in her white hand. She watches with an unfathomable expression which could be joy or guilt as her eyes follow Roxy as she storms out with Amy, turning to give her a scathing look on the way out.

"Uh, sorry. Is this a bad time?" she asks quietly and he turns to stare at her, suddenly remembering she is here. Surprisingly, he doesn't feel angry with Louisa for messing things up, only with himself for bringing all this about.

"Don't worry about it, it 'aint your fault,"

He looks at her, really looks at her, and he sees her in a new light. Jack could use Louisa, use her to make Ronnie jealous and want to come back to him. He knows her well enough to realise that she never responds to empty words and promises so he will have to find another way to win back her love. That, and he needs something, anything, to take his mind away from that dreadful icy feeling encapsulating his heart.

Louisa shifts uncomfortably under his gaze, but smiles slightly at him in a comforting way like Ronnie sometimes would and it stirs the guilt and love painfully inside his heart. He rises and crosses the room to her, not caring what she thinks of him. Pulling her to him, their lips crash together and he hungrily explores every inch of her skin, imagining it is Ronnie in his arms and hoping that when she finds out about their 'relationship' she will feel hurt enough to recognise that she still needs him.

The phone falls to the floor with a loud clatter and for a moment they both break apart and come up for air.

"I don't quite know what this is for, but it's the best greeting I've had in a while," she whispers huskily, her breath tickling his ear. "Don't bother going to find protection. I'm on the pill," she lies, the words easily slipping from her mouth, knowing that soon this will work, she will take away everything Ronnie wanted and get her revenge. And then she can hurt her even more by doing what he said.

Jack doesn't seem to hear, just continues to kiss her passionately and entwined together they find their way over to the bedroom, it never entering his mind that this he mad love to Ronnie on the very bed they are now falling onto.

Eyes closed, he doesn't see her smiling against him as he holds her tightly, doesn't realise that this was exactly what Louisa and Archie both hoped would happen.

Pulling her shirt over her head, she inconspicuously slips her hand inside the upper pocket and checks she can still feel the cool metal.

She smiles at Jack, seductively, satisfied.

It's still there.

The gun that she will eventually use on Ronnie to ensure she never has another child is still there.

**Argh this chapter is truly dreadful but I thought an update was slightly overdue and i'm sick of it. I promise the next one will be better.** **Jack, what a moron. I've made myself hate him in this fic. I've written the next chapter, so I will post it tomorrow or the next day.**


	12. A Picture of Hope

**All the hate comments on Jack made me lol**_** xD **_**This chapter is dedicated to all you lovely folks who review =D Keeps me going even when I want to stop writing this!**

She raises the glass to her lips and savours the coolness of the glass against her skin as she takes yet another sip. The vodka carves a burning path down her throat, numbing her insides with warmth that she no longer knew she could feel, but somehow it isn't enough to destroy his words that are whirring inside her head like a drill. All the alcohol in the world can't erase the sight of Jack, can't kill the sound of his poisonous words as they slowly infiltrate every corner of her soul.

_Maybe it was for the best Charlie died._

A wave of drink induced fatigue once again crashes over her, not really accustomed to it after five months without alcohol and her shoulders sag with the weight of everything. Days ago Jack had been the most important thing in her life and now she hardly even knows him; she doesn't recognise the Jack who once made her breakfast in the morning and went shopping to cater to all her bizarre cravings. That man is lost and has been hollowed out and carved by guilt and sorrow into someone who sleeps with another woman the night their baby dies, who doesn't seem to care what has happened and carelessly taints the memory of their son.

Her eyes find the phone and she finds herself hoping that it will ring just because she is sick of the terrible silence filling every corner or the room. And also she needs to hear his voice, Jack's voice, telling her that he didn't mean what he said and pleading for forgiveness. It won't make it any better; no words could ever make it better. But she has to know he didn't really believe it, wasn't truly pleased that their baby was gone forever. The phone doesn't ring though, and probably never will no matter how much she wants it to.

Draining the liquid left in her glass, she pours herself another drink and immediately takes several large gulps, hating the few moments without it in which she is given time to think. She is different too; it has changed them both. In the mirror, she catches sight of a stranger's face. Lank hair hangs over her shoulders and two empty eyes stare back at her from a pallid face with no sign of that pretty pregnancy glow. Ronnie looks away, repulsed by the sight of herself.

She wasn't capable of stopping her father from taking Amy and now she hasn't even been capable of protecting her unborn baby for just nine months. Maybe it's her fault he's gone; maybe she's so pathetic and weak Charlie couldn't stand to hold on. Or maybe she just didn't deserve him to God took him away. Tears threaten to spill over her eyes again and she smothers a sob by downing another glass of vodka, quickly refilling it.

Ronnie has never been able handle her drink well and already she can feel the beginnings of a migraine. It isn't doing anything to help anyway, not managing to stop the never ending blur of her thoughts that flit form Jack to Charlie to Amy. Suddenly, she isn't sure why is doing this to herself. The attempt at making herself forget it making things worse, the drink making her mind travel into cold crevices with only dark thoughts that she can't escape. This isn't helping her to move forward, it is doing the opposite, making her sink further into her grief so that soon she won't be able to find her way out.

It isn't her fault he died. It can't be. It's just the drink talking. She can't have hurt her little Charlie.

Can she?

Bile churning in her stomach, she dashes to the bathroom and almost falls to the floor as she leans over the toilet, a guttural cry struggling forth from her chest. She hurls the glass against the wall with a terrified scream of sorrow and it smashes, the small shards scattering across the tiled floor like hail stones. Hands shaking, she grips the toilet seat and slips a finger down her throat. She feels contaminated, filthy inside with the thought that all of this is her fault; that she killed him because she's just so screwed up that everything good around her dies.

Desperate, she forces herself to retch, frantic to get rid of the alcohol engraving cruel words into her veins and because maybe it will somehow cleanse her, make her less responsible. No wonder Jack seems to hate her, no wonder he said what he did. He'd all ready discovered what she now knows and that's why he wanted to hurt her; to make her pay.

She continues to make herself sick and doesn't notice when her Dad finds her, quietly slipping through the door and surveying his eldest daughter with a kind of joyous disgust. He gently pulls back the hair from her face and begins to massage her back and for an absurd moment she thinks that it is Jack, rejection and sadness crushing her when she turns to find Archie with her even though right now she hates Jack.

"Are you trying to kill yourself Veronica?" he asks, sliding his arms around her waist and carefully hoisting her up. She leans on him and he helps her back to her bedroom where she sinks into the soft covers. "You know what the doctor said. I'm taking this,"

She watches him pour the little remaining vodka down the sink, a part of her resenting him for stopping her when she still feels so awful. But the little girl inside of her is pleased that her Dad is here now to look after her, to make everything seem ok even though it isn't.

"I killed him, Dad," she blurts out, choking back another cry.

Archie freezes for a second, not having anticipated Veronica blaming herself. But he supposes he can use it to his advantage. Leaving the bottle in the sink, he walks over to her and sits by her on the bed, forcing himself not to wrap an arm around her and spoil the moment.

"You're drunk,"

The two words hit Ronnie like a ton of bricks. He hasn't bother denying it, not bothered to comfort her and tell her that none of this is her fault. She never thought it would get to the point where her dad's opinion would matter to her, but it does now. It matters more than anything. But he thinks it too; otherwise he would have said something. Everyone will blame her and she has never felt so disgusted with herself. But most of all she feels completely alone.

"I killed him and this is all I have left," she unclasps the silver locket around her neck and for a moment clutches it so tightly in her hands that it hurts. Archie watches her curiously, contemplating how best to manipulate her; it shouldn't be too difficult while she is in such a drunken, vulnerable state.

"I know I shouldn't have, but I needed something to remember him by," she opens the locket and both their eyes fall on the small lock of scrunched up blonde hair sat on the picture of Amy. Tentatively, as if it the most important thing in the world, she presses it against her heart. "I killed him," she whispers again in a slurred voice through her tears and her eyes fall on the picture in the locket, the picture of her little girl. Gently, she traces the baby's face with her fingers and remembers the night she was born in the disinfected, blank hospital room; how her small face had broken into its first cry as the midwife placed her into Ronnie's arms and she had held her for the first time. She will never forget how she felt in that moment; will never forget the overwhelming fear of joy and protectiveness as she hugged the warm body to her chest, the hearts of mother and child beating in unison. A small smile, her first smile in days, captures her face as the memory breathes life into her soul, drying her eyes.

And then her Dad had taken her away. He'd taken her away and she'd let him. All these years she has blamed him, but it's her fault. She should have fought for her, should still be fighting for her.

Amy will be twenty now. She'll probably have a boyfriend and a job and Ronnie wonders if she likes going out drinking like Roxy did or if she prefers to stay in and watch chick flicks or read a book like she did. The emptiness inside her is suddenly unbearable and her heart aches for her lost baby and for the twenty years of lost time that can never be gotten back with her daughter. She has only ever been with both her babies in a hospital, has only ever held them in a sterile room owned by death and she would give anything in the world to change that.

"You-" she chokes, fumbling with her words in her struggle to speak as the effect of the drink still whirs inside her mind. "You said I wasn't good enough. I was her mum and you said I wasn't good enough," all the years of festering hatred for her dad rears its ugly head again and erupts forth from her mouth.

"Veronica," he waves his hand impatiently. "I've all ready explained this. It was for your own good,"

She looks up at him, her lashes thick with tears, her fist clenching tightly around the locket as if it is keeping her alive and she doesn't bother to conceal the contempt hidden behind her eyes. Ronnie doesn't care what he says anymore even though she knows he is telling the truth, that he actually believes his own words. How could taking a baby that was just a few hours old away from its mother be for her own good?

"I want to find her, I want to find my little girl," she says, gripping the locket even tighter until her nails begin to dig into her palm. "And you're going to help me," she adds fiercely.

"I thought you wanted to move on, V. This 'aint moving on. She'll have her own life and probably doesn't want the mum who abandoned interfering with it. Besides, it's too soon after Charlie. You can't just use Amy to replace the child you just lost," He turns his head away to hide a smile.

This is exactly what he had hoped would happen; now he just has to show the right amount of reluctance to let her think it was her idea.

"This is the only way I can move on. If she's happy, I'll leave her alone and never go back. And i'm not using her to replace Charlie because I should never have lost her in the first place because she was _my _beautiful baby girl," she argues furiously, annoyed that Archie is trying to talk her out of this. It is the only way she can begin to feel slightly alive again. She can never been fully whole, but at least if she is reunited with Amy she can be half way there. Lowering her voice, she begins to plead with him. "Please, Dad, please. I have to know. I have to know what she's like and I have to hold her again..."

She doesn't complete the sentence, but her unspoken words linger like an apparition between them: _Because I need something to hold._

He nods, his arm slipping around her shoulders to let her know that he will support her if it is really what she wants. The pain of losing Charlie is heavier than ever, the thought of him making her want to crawl into bed and never wake up again. And then there's Jack. Jack's with his betrayal and callous words. Nothing can ever erase the memories of the past few days, but at least if she finds her little girl then maybe some of her heartache can be relieved. All ready, she tries to picture what Amy might look like, might act like and what she will say to her, the twenty year old rope of love tightening in a lasso of excitement around her heart.

Archie massages the back of her hand and she begins to feel the anger at him ebb away like water, just glad that her dad is here and willing to help her.

"Can I look at it?" he asks suddenly, looking at Ronnie expectantly.

She looks away and opens her palm, reluctant to hand over the silver heart to another person when it has never even left her side since the night Amy was taken. Before she can answer he snatches the locket up from her hand and caresses it in his fingers. Without it, she feels oddly light, as if something vital is missing and ever nerve in her body warns her to take it back, but she suppresses the feeling, blaming it on the vodka. Archie is her dad and she would never forgive him if he did anything to the locket and he must know that.

"She was a lovely baby," he comments and Ronnie doesn't look up in time to catch his true feelings, to see the shudder of repulsion he feels looking at the child who was living proof that Veronica had been more than just his. For this reason, he is glad he never saw Charlie, as much as he would have loved to delight over his small dead body.

"Yeah, yeah she was. And when I meet her she'll be a lovely young woman,"

"I'll contact the adoption agency," he tells her getting up from the bed. For a moment, she is terrified that he isn't going to give back the only thing she has had of Amy for twenty years, but after a final lingering look he drops the chain back into her hand she pulls it close to her body after returning the lock of Charlie's hair. "And hopefully I'll soon get to meet my Granddaughter,"

Turning to leave, he pauses at she timidly says, "Dad?"

"What, Veronica?"

"Thanks, Dad. Thanks for everything,"

He nods, forcing a warm smile to his face and preserving a victorious grin until he is alone. "Anything for my little girl. Now, make sure you get some rest,"

Carefully, he shuts the door behind him and feels a surge of triumphant glee that his plan is working out just the way he wanted. He hadn't expected her to be this vulnerable, this easy to gain her trust when she had always been so reluctant to even be in the same room as him before. Marvelling at his own brilliance at using Louisa to seduce Jack and get him out of the picture, he heads into the living room.

His phone begins to ring and he pulls it from his pocket and answers it, silently listening as Louisa happily relays that she has done what he wanted.

"And how long until you'll know?" he asks.

"Uh, a few weeks I guess. What do you want me to do next?"

"You've still got the gun?"

"Of course,"

"Good girl. Look, I can't talk now, but I'll call you soon," he says, thinking of Veronica in the next room. "Bye, sweetie,"

A pause.

"Bye. I love you, Dad," she breathes into the phone.

He snaps it shut and chuckles to himself, again envisaging the day that Veronica and Louisa both discover the real truth that will mean Veronica really will have no one and she will be his forever.

***cue Eastenders theme music***

**I thought that was a good place to end! What is Archie up to? Stay tuned; there's a lot more to be revealed.**


	13. Murderer

**Thanks for the reviews! Please enjoy this chapter! Sorry about the delay xD I promise the next one will be quicker. It's just this friggin' chapter has been a pain. I apologise about the rushed crapiness of it in advance.**

**Warning: Language and child abuse ahead. Don't like, don't read ;)**

She waits for him in one of the grungy alley ways residing behind the Queen Vic, pressing her back firmly against the coolness of the wall in an attempt to make herself invisible. But it doesn't work just as it never did when she was a child trying to stop her daddy from tormenting her and the drunken men still stumble past, wearing derisive sneers and eyeing her up as a wolf would its prey. The stagnant smell of beer lingers in the air and Louisa finds her thoughts being dragged back down into the dark places she has tried so hard to run from. She can't escape them though; she never will. Every time there is a small glimmer of light in her life, those sinister memories tighten their grip around her soul again and she becomes frightened again; becomes her childhood self again.

Only to make _her_ pay for the life she has lead would Louisa agree to wait for him here where they are away from the prying eyes of Walford where only the broken and desperate come to seek solace in the blackness. Only for the father she has always longed for would she do this. From an early age, she has always lived to please her family even when they didn't love her back, but then she discovered it was all for nothing. What she let that evil bastard of a man do to her was for nothing. But now she has a new father, a better father, a father she cares about and who cares about her and she will do anything to make him happy.

_Her entire body trembles and she clenches her jaw tight, chewing her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and she wipes her mouth with the back of her sleeve staining it red. She won't cry; not this time. It only makes her daddy angry and she hates seeing him upset, especially when it's her who makes him that way. She should never have left him alone with that terrible drink that poisons him and makes him act like this. This, like everything else, in all her fault._

_Her eyes rise to meet his then and she gives him a defiant look, willing herself not to cry even though she can feel a scream of fear rumbling in chest. She won't, can't give up on him now, not when it's her fault. They'd be getting along so well recently and he'd been attending those meeting of his, but she'd gone and left him alone, thinking she could trust him, thinking that maintaining a good relationship with his kid would be enough to stop him going to the shops and buying that venom._

_But it wasn't enough; nothing will ever be enough. Louisa is only ten years old and she loves her daddy, loves the kind man he really is, but she hates the way the drink makes him and she hates herself for feeling that way._

_She shouldn't hate her Daddy no matter what he does to her and feels guilty every time a single bad thought about him darkens her mind. All kids know the unspoken law that the love you give to your parents is unconditional._

_If only she hadn't taken Lassie for a walk this morning and she'd stayed behind with him and not let him out of her sights._

_It's all her fault and it'll be her fault if he hurts her again. She'll deserve it, just like she always does. But she has to try, she has to try and help her Daddy even though deep down she knows this will never end._

"_Please give me the bottle, Daddy," she pleads, her voice shaking and full of far too much more false confidence than a girl her age should ever have to have._

_He leers at her, his mocking laughter ringing through their small home. Raising the bottle to his lips, he takes another large gulp, some of the liquid slopping down his shirt while he eyes her in amusement._

"_What the hell you gonna do about it, you little brat? I 'aint stopping drinkin' just 'cause some little fuck tells me to. I'm sick of all those meetings, you hear me? Sick of 'em and I 'aint goin' to no more. Should have never gone in the first place. Look what I've been missin' out on, Lou!"_

_Again, he takes another long chug on his beer, smacking his lips afterwards in satisfaction. He looks at the green bottle, eyeing it happily and with more love in his gaze than he has ever spared for the daughter who has always doted on him._

"_Please, Daddy, you've been doing so well. Please," her bottom lip trembles and her eyes fill with tears before she can stop them. She bites her lip again, welcoming the painful stinging sensation; she has no right to feel this way, has no right to cry when it's her daddy she should be feeling sorry for. He has always taken care of her, fed her, clothed her and now he needs her to take care of him and instead she is stood trembling and being afraid. It's her daddy and she shouldn't feel afraid no matter what; only he deserves to be afraid. Louisa has to love her daddy and she has to look after him._

"_Stop saying please!" he roars suddenly, charging forward until he is stood in front of her. Roughly, he grabs hold of her shoulders and begins to shake her so her head lolls back and forth like a ragdolls. She can feel her thoughts become a jumble and she feels the urge to be sick, but she fights it back down when she realises that it will only upset her daddy further. All the same, she can't stop it when the small sob bursts free of her lips._

_For a moment he smiles at the trembling girl before him, pleased he can gain such a reaction, but thunder clouds his eyes when he see the tears rolling down her face. She hardly has time to prepare herself before his hand strikes her face and knocks her to the ground. "What have I told you about cryin'? I'm sick of all this actin' like a baby. It's about time I show you how to become a lady,"_

_He grips her arms and she winces at the pressure, but swallows hard to stop herself crying out again as he joins her on the floor. Her eyes widen in fear as he begins to climb on top of her, the heavy weight of his body restricting her breathing until in comes in short gasps. Those terrible empty eyes leer at her hungrily and his face is so close that she can feel his heat radiating against her, can smell that awful stench on his breath. His lips crash roughly against hers and he forces his tongue inside her mouth, hands exploring her body and ripping at the girlish clothes._

_She doesn't struggle._

_She doesn't beg him to stop because she knows he won't stop._

_Instead she cries silently and lets him rape her._

_At least it will make her daddy happy; make him forget the beer just for a little while._

_And she deserves it._

"Louisa?" his voice finds her, shattering the memory like a bullet. He either doesn't notice that her face is glistening with tears or he chooses to ignore it. "Sorry, I had to wait until I was certain Veronica was sleeping,"

She shrugs, relieved by his presence, shaking away the tears and the memory. All that is in the past now; she has a new dad now, a dad who loves her. Louisa can't make out his face through the darkness, but she imagines that he is smiling and pleased to see his daughter. "How is she?"

Archie laughs, a high, chilling sound that shakes her to the core yet exhilarates her at the same time. "Terrible,"

She nods slowly, not used to trying to ruin someone else's life, to hating someone when it has always been she on the receiving end of both of those things. "I'm glad,"

"Is it going ok with Jack,"

"Yeah, he really seems to like me," blushingly, she admits this and feels a swooping sensation in the pit of her stomach

"And you still have the gun?"

She feels herself hesitate, intensely aware of the metal weight pressing against her thigh. The thought of using it is something she has so far avoided; it is one thing to imagine hurting someone, to picture the helplessness and feel that thrill of power at the thought of them begging to help, but it is another to do it; a completely different thing all together to pull the trigger and commit and act which condemns you to hell above all else. Louisa doesn't know if she will be able to cope with guilt if it goes wrong and she succeeds in more than just hurting the woman she detests so much.

But she can't let her father down.

She loves, she has to, and he loves her and she never wants that to change.

"Yeah, I still have the gun,"

His face looms closer and she shrinks back against the wall, Archie suddenly reminding her far more of her old life than she would ever want to admit. A smirk flits across his face, so excited and hungry like a wolf who's cornered its prey that it terrifies her.

"Good. Do it tomorrow, after they've buried the brat," he commands, fighting back the urge to laugh at how easy it is to manipulate the broken girl.

She shakes her head, not wanting to hurt _her_ no matter what she is responsible for, no matter what he tells her to do. Louisa isn't a bad person, not really. Surely taking away the man _she_ loves is enough. Again she shakes her head furiously, but she can't quite manage to say the word 'no', not wanting to upset her dad. You're not allowed to upset you're dad.

"No?" he cocks his head, eyeing her mockingly. Expression flashing dangerously, he takes a step closer to her and she forces herself to look him in the eye. "Remember what she did. Everything, your life, is her fault. It's her fault I couldn't see my daughter. Remember how she threatened to tell Glenda and Roxy. I'd have lost them all and I couldn't let that happen. I wanted to see you and it's her fault I couldn't,"

He grabs her chin and breathes the words into her face, nails cutting into her skin so she has no choice but to accept what he is saying without question. Clutching her arms, he pulls back the sleeves and tilts her face down so she is forced to look at the lightning marks zig zagging up her arms. "She caused that? You hear me? She caused that so she deserves this,"

Tears escaping her eyes again, she nods silently and he lets her go so she sinks to the floor. Eyes blank, he gives her a final look then leaves her hugging her knees to her chest on the ground. She watches him walk away, thoughts filling with a hatred she immediately loathes herself for feeling. Louisa learnt a long time ago that you have to love your father or bad things happen.

She watches him walk away and thinks with guilt of how tomorrow if she fails she won't just stop her sister from having children, she will kill her.

Louisa will be a murderer.

**Archie, lying fool. Tehee, I take pleasure in being mean to Louisa! And I'm also a pretty sick person 0.o Not very pleased with this, but oh well. OMG, results day! It turned out ok. I got 7*'s, 1 A and 3 B's so all is good. And guess what, I've swapped back to English Lit again lol xD No doubt I'll change my mind again. Almost got the next chapter done- it's a lot more interesting than this awful one!**


	14. Time to Say Goodbye

**So, the funeral. Just pretend Roxy or someone organised it because i'm too lazy to have included that part ;P Thanks for the reviews. Enjoy!**

The sun twinkles kindly, its light dancing through the trees and telling lies to the world that the day is cheerful, harmonious. Ronnie can hardly stand as she stares down at the earth, her sagging body only supported by her dad. A large coat buries her slight frame, her hair hanging in tangled tendrils down her back and her skin appears dead under the beams of gold spilling from the sky. She doesn't seem to feel the warmth against her face, her hands shaking uncontrollably. At her side, an ashen faced Roxy clings to her even though it would make no difference if she had stayed at home. The only thing she is aware of is the emptiness devouring her insides. Everything else seems like it belongs in a separate universe to her.

From the opposite side of the grave Jack watches her, silently aware of her every move. He wants to go to her and hold her, but he knows she won't let him and it doesn't matter because there is nothing he can say to make it better. There is no longer any animosity radiating from her towards him and it doesn't matter what she has done either because he still can't fix this. Neither of them can. And he doesn't know how to hold her, how he can possibly comfort her so they both feel something inside after everything he has done and everything they have lost.

The funeral begins then while the cadence of the wind fills their ears. Decrepit crosses accompanied by solemn angels observe the procession with unfeeling eyes. A priest begins to utter a prayer, his muffled tones losing themselves in the wind. Two men carry a tiny white coffin, masks of sorrow painted on their faces.

The green lipped mouth in the earth has never seemed as large or as dark while it waits to devour their baby into an eternity of nothing. Slowly, it disappears from view and for a while neither of them react. In their own private grief, the world comes to a standstill as other faces mar with sympathy and tissues dampen against cheeks of people who have no idea what they are going through. Jack can hardly stand to look at them and their false sadness, instead keeping a protective eye over Ronnie. He knows the real reason they are here and it certainly isn't to support Ronnie and Jack; none of them are friends, just gossiping neighbours who they share pleasantries with in passing. No, they are here for something to talk about, to watch Ronnie break, to see how long it takes for her to lose the plot; to watch as the infamous Ice Queen's exterior melts away. Anger shakes his bones to know that they dare come here as if it is some sort of circus, but he refrains from ordering them away.

What good would that do for anyone other than supply more gossip? What good would that do for Ronnie? Today can only be about her and the baby.

Finally, the coffin reaches the bottom of the hole with a hollow thud and the world is set in motion again. Ronnie staggers forward clutching her chest as if her soul has been buried to and it is now causing her physical pain. Her eyes glistening, Roxy gently tries to pull her back but Ronnie falls to her knees. Archie bends to her level but she pushes him away and falls forward, gripping the edge of the grave. A sob tears through her heart and Jack closes his eyes, her agony almost more unbearable than the death itself.

The residents of Albert Square exchange glances before bowing their heads in respect. Even the trees cease their whispering when all falls silent save for Ronnie's desperate cries for her baby as her nails dig into the dirt. Jack tries to think or something, anything, to say to her but no words of comfort spring to mind and instead remain locked hopelessly inside his chest. He desperately wants to hold her, but it won't make it any better for either of them. Finally, someone dares break the hush.

"Now don't you worry, Ronnie sweetheart. When we get back I'll have Roxy help me cook a nice family dinner to take your mind of things," Peggy ventures uncertainly, making some attempt to smile. "You're welcome too of course, Jack,"

He glares at Peggy incredulously, astounded she could possibly choose now to suggest a family dinner. It's the last thing he would ever want to do. Ronnie doesn't seem to hear, her head sinking lower as if it will somehow bring her closer to Charlie. Jack gives Peggy an icy glare that lets her know exactly what he thinks of the idea. How could she think that they would want to sit around a table where Peggy's light hearted chatter about the importance of family covers but does nothing to alleviate the sadness engulfing them all? If anything, they need to be in a place where nobody who they are, about the tragedy that has found them. What they need is normality where people don't treat them as if they are balanced on a tightrope.

"Ronnie, I know we 'aint exactly been friends, we've been the opposite really, but if you need anything then don't be afraid to pop around with uncle Jack," Bianca Jackson begins, her shrill voice cutting across Ronnie's cries. She laughs, trying to lighten the mood. "I mean, you can always have one of my kids- I got enough of 'em!"

"Bianca," Ricky hisses in her ear, giving her a sharp nudge in the in the ribs; sometimes she said the wrong thing at the most stupid of moments.

"What? I'm only trying to lighten the mood? Anyone would think the world was endin',"

All the pent up grief Jack feels come flooding out in a surge of anger towards everyone. How dare these people come here to watch their son be buried like it is some sort of circus, how dare they violate his memory like this.

"Get away from here," he says gruffly. Heads turn in his direction, a mixture of pity and fear in their eyes at the dangerous shake of his voice. His hand trembles against his side and he bunches the material from his coat in his fist. They don't need to be here and he wants them to go, all of them. All that matters is him, Ronnie and the baby. Suddenly, it doesn't matter what has happened between them and he just needs to hold her; she is the only person who understands and he needs her even if it will never be enough.

Her tear stained eyes rise to meet his and a spark of something ignites behind them, a look of understanding passing between them. Jack knows that she can feel it to, can feel that they have to go through this together because they are the only ones who know how they are really feeling. He can almost feel her ache for him to hold him and it is all the indication he needs. Approaching her, he bends to her level and pulls her into his arms, softly kissing the top of her head and gently rubbing her arm. There is no protest and she leans into him loudly sucking in breathes as she tries to stem her sobs.

"Show's over, now get out of here!" he roars looking up at the plastic faces set in a state of sorrow.

"Ooo I say!" Dot Cotton exclaims loudly, affronted at being yelled at for being supportive.

Jack ignores her, concentrating only on Ronnie as he holds her.

"Jack do something. Please, please get me my baby back," she sobs even though she knows it's the end with her hands twisting into his shirt, gripping on desperately because she needs something warm to take away the image of her freezing baby on that metal slab. Ronnie doesn't want to remember him like that, all small and cold: dead. Her head sinks into his chest and she feels the steady drum of his heart, of life, and somehow feels comforted by it. No matter what Jack has done, he is here now and that counts for so much and yet it counts for nothing at all. She hates the thought of little Charlie all alone down there in a terrifying world and all on his own and she tightens her hold on Jack. He is the man who cheated, the man who told her their baby would be better of dead, but she still needs him and hates herself for it. He is the flimsy raft keeping her from sinking and without him she knows she will drown, but the thought only makes her cry harder. Ronnie loathes relying on other people when they never bring anything but pain.

He brings a hand to the side of her face and brushes away her tears, simply holding her close and letting her grieve. Jack feels his heart break for her as her red eyes stare down into the grave as if daring the coffin to be brought back up while someone yells it was all a cruel joke. Disgust surges through him, filling his blood with a searing hatred for what he has done again. He should have been there for her these past few days, loathing the thought of her with no one left but her father, loathing the thought of her having to deal with this on her own. As she shudders hysterically in his arms, he can hardly believe that she is still holding up. If it were him, he would have broken beneath everything by now just like he did when Penny had her accident. "Hush, it's ok, Darlin'. I'm here now,"

No matter what words of comfort he whispers in her ear, she can't seem to stop crying. Behind them, he is vaguely aware of people beginning to leave and giving Roxy their condolences for her sister. She thanks them all in turn, thanks them for coming to watch their baby be swallowed up by the earth like it is some kind of show. He wraps his arms more tightly around her, needing her touch as much as she needs his. Eventually, her cries fade away but he can still hear her screams and he probably always will; they have dissolved into his bloodstream and infiltrated right into the core of his heart, now pumping through his body as sure as oxygen.

Everyone has left now apart from them, Roxy and Archie and he wishes that they would go to so they could just say goodbye in private. He starts to move his arm, but her fingers grip it and pull it back. She turns to look at him, the fear of being alone hardly masked.

"Stay," she croaks.

"I'm not going anywhere," he assures pulling her close as he hears footsteps behind them indicating Archie and Roxy must have left to give them some privacy. He rocks her back and forth like a child and neither of them dare speak but the words of goodbye linger like apparitions before them.

Jack isn't sure how long they are there, not caring when his legs go numb, but it is long enough for the sun to shy away and for a grumble of wind to emerge from the skies. Ronnie feels shivers, the iciness of her skin cutting into him "Do you want my coat?"

"No thanks,"

They sit in silence for a moment and Jack watches clouds float past in the sky, picking out different shapes they have assumed. Grief attacks him mercilessly as he imagines he can see the outline of a newborn baby. He knots her hair in his fingers and she closes her eyes, leaning into his touch.

"Jack?"

"Hmm," he mumbles, not trusting himself to speak; his thoughts are filled with Charlie, his little face whirring in every corner of his mind and he wonders if there was anything he could have done differently so right now they'd be back at home and laughing over a particularly dreadful name suggestion.

"Tell me it won't always feel like this. Please tell me I won't wake up every morning feeling like I'll never see the light again," she takes his hand in a vice grip, staring at him with an intensity that frightens him.

A tear for Ronnie escapes his eye and falls to the grass, exploding with the cold hard truth. No, they won't ever get over this, yes, it will always be at the forefront of their minds. But he can't tell her that, not able to break her heart again. But he can't lie to her either. So he does the cowardly thing: he says nothing.

Her eyes swim and her lips tremble. She drops his hand, distraught that he can't say the words she so desperately wants to hear even if she knew they weren't true. Gulping back his own sadness, he wraps both arms around her and softly kisses her cheek before whispering in her ear.

"We need each other to get through this and we both know it," she presses as closely against him as is humanely possible, his words like drugs and washing her with calmness. "I'm sorry,"

There's no point bothering with excuses anymore because there are none. He slept with Louisa and told her that Charlie was better off dead and nothing can ever change that. But she doesn't hate him; she is allowing him to look after her now even though he's never made a very good job of it before. And that must mean there is still a chance he won't have to lose two things today. God knows why she doesn't hate him though. He hates himself. Before she has time to answer, a shrill yell filled with disgust breaks their bubble of private sadness which only they understand.

"What the hell are you doing here, you little slut?" Roxy's voice rings like a bell over the graveyard. "You get away from here before I make you,"

Jack's heart plunges into its icy sea and his breath catches in his throat.

Louisa.

He'd forgotten, forgotten his cruel plan to make Ronnie jealous to win her back. But he hadn't wanted this, had told her to stay in the car. To have her here after he broke Ronnie's heart with her would just be sick.

"Get off me! Who do you think you are?" Louisa screeches back, equally angry at her half sister even though it is Ronnie she really wants to upset.

"I'm her sister. Who do you think you are?" she roars, prodding her hard in the chest. "I'll tell you, you're just some pathetic girl Jack used because he was upset and if you think i'm letting you hurt her today you can think again!"

"No, i'm her-" she begins before a warning look from Roxy silences her.

Ronnie shifts in his arms and he tries to hold her, to prevent the inevitable but it is already too late. She gets up, forcing away his hands and storms towards the fight. Jack leaps up, hopelessly trailing behind her like a child in the wrong. He starts to say something to stop her, but there is no point. He saw that look in her eye, that terrible need to blame and punish someone other than herself for the death of Charlie. Just as well it is the woman Jack betrayed her with.

"How dare you come here. It's my baby's funeral, you bitch," she says quietly, the hard, cold tone shocking them both into silence. The woman who Jack held while she cried has vanished, the Ice Queen in her place.

Louisa turns to glare at her, hate rearing behind her eyes although Jack has no idea why Louisa would hate Ronnie when she doesn't know her. The moment passes as quickly as it came and he is sure he imagined it. Roxy's lip trembles for her sister; hasn't she already been through enough without having to cope with this?

"I was waiting in the car for Jack and I just thought I would come say that I'm sorry for your loss," somehow, she manages not to yell at the woman who is responsible for ruining her life, the hatred burning inside of her.

"You're not sorry," Ronnie sneers, taking a step towards her. "You just another notch on Jack's bed post who got jealous when she realised she'd been used,"

Fury contorts Louisa's face and the space between them closes. The weight of the gun presses against her chest and any regret she has vanishes; she could just shoot them all now, make them all feel some of the hurt she has had to feel. Her hand digs in her pocket, but before she has the opportunity, Ronnie's hand collides with her cheek and she stumbles backwards. Roxy manages to catch her, her eyes swimming with tears.

"Don't touch me," Louisa spits, wrenching herself away. A red hand mark materialises on her cheek and would almost look comical under other circumstances. How dare this woman act like she has the right to be angry when it is only Louisa who has that right. She sees red and wants more than anything to shoot her now and laugh as crimson seeps onto the dark earth, but something is stopping her.

Archie places a hand on her shoulder making her hesitate; she can feel his fury with her in the tightness of his grip Archie, her dad. She has to do this his way. Has to please him as well as herself. She turns and Jack watches as a look passes between and as something changes behind her eyes. The anger dissipates and tries to let him know she is sorry, that she won't fail him again.

"You're right," she begins to back away, her hand touching the place where Ronnie slapped her. "I'm so sorry, I had no right to come here,"

"Then leave before I do something that'll make Ron's slap feel like a pillow," Roxy orders furiously, watching as Louisa heads back towards Jack's car. "You idiot!" she yells, turning on him. "Why did you bring her here,"

"I told her to wait in the car," he says quietly without really hearing, just watching Ronnie. The expression on her face is unfathomable and he isn't sure whether she is about to break down again or scream at them all.

"Why are you here, Roxy?" she snaps suddenly, but without any real anger. "You're just as bad! What about Amy? Immaculate conception was she?"

A small cry escapes Roxy, hurt flitting across her face and she doesn't answer, running back towards the car.

"Dad, please can you take me home?"

"Of course, darling," she goes to him and he puts his arm around her shoulder. He whispers something to her and she leans gratefully into him as they turn their backs on Jack.

"Ronnie, wait," he scrambles after them, voice rising several notches, words of apology ready in his mouth again. "Please,"

"Don't, Jack," she says over Archie's shoulder "I'm sick of you and your apologies. Give them to somehow who cares,"

"Ron, please. I love you," He says desperately, tears staining his cheeks. Even if it doesn't change a thing, he has to tell her, to let her know that no matter what she thinks right now that this was never what he wanted. He wanted her and Charlie, wanted them to be a family, but instead everything has fallen apart. And it is his fault.

"This isn't love," she breaks away from Archie and strides towards him until she is close enough to touch, until she is close enough to kiss. "This isn't anything,"

That voice is back, the dreadful hollow voice that could belong to anyone, not someone who has buried their baby. She takes his face in his hands and he feels his cheeks burn against her touch. Ronnie looks into his eyes, making sure he sees the wasteland of death behind hers'. "You're dead to me,"

She walks away then and there is nothing he can do but watch her go. A pain explodes in his chest as if he has been shot, his knees failing him as he groans loudly, head sinking into his hands while the wind spirals around him. He has screwed up everything all for a woman he feels nothing for. Taking a final look at where their son now lies to be ravaged by time, he heads back towards the car where Louisa awaits him because he has no other choice. Without Ronnie, there's no point to anything but at least Louisa can still numb the pain; without Ronnie and the baby, there is nothing he wants to remember.

Archie helps Ronnie into the car and she crawls into it, her heart still fluttering wildly from the confrontation. The moment the door closes her mask crumbles and her loss fills her once again and she begins to cry. Beside her, her Dad starts the engine and waits as it comes to life with a spluttering groan. He turns the key, his hands are the steering wheel and suddenly Ronnie wants to scream at him not to drive away. She doesn't want to leave her little baby here.

But she knows she has to.

As much as she doesn't want to, she has to move on. Jack and Charlie are history now, a part of her life she can never get back.

Her hand closes around her silver locket for strength.

"Goodbye," she whispers, her breath steaming the window. "Both of you,"

**Rack peace didn't last long (: ... Is my writing too, uh, detached from the characters if you know what I mean or is it just me? Also does anyone have any tips for writing dialogue because it never seems to turn out well for me? Please comment and critique. Thanks!**


	15. One Day

**Yay, pregnant Ronnie in Eastenders =D Thanks everyone for your input/reviews. Argh, A levels! Already got so much homework. Once again, i'm doubting English literature. So much work 0.o Biology and Chemistry are awesome! Maths is ok too I guess (:**

**The after party thing following the funeral.**

Ronnie creeps up the stairs, eager to be away from the bustling crowd with their meaningless condolences. There's no need for her to be here, but her Dad thought it was a good idea and she doesn't want to let him down again when they have only just started to repair their relationship. She can't stand the sight of them watching her carefully as if she has gone mad, feeding off her misery like a bat feeds off blood. But most of all she can't stand the pity, pity she doesn't want; doesn't deserve. It's her fault Charlie died, her fault because she is so pathetic. She wishes people would start treating her with disgust, the only thing she is worthy of.

When she reaches the top of the stairs, she makes for the kitchen but quickly turns away as it hits her in a flash of cruelty that a kitchen is where her and Jack shared their first true argument. She goes to the lounge, collapsing onto the sofa. Automatically, she reaches for the brandy bottle perched on the coffee table, a humourless smile forming on her lips. Auntie Peggy owns a pub and acts like she's 18 again with Pat after a few whiskeys, Roxy goes drinking pretty much every night, her cousin Phil drinks 24/7 and she drinks whenever something in her life goes wrong, which is a lot of the time; half of her family are alcoholics drowning away their messed up lives. She supposes it must be something in their genes.

She starts to unscrew the cap, her gaze turning towards the window. Outside, the sun has disappeared completely now, obscured by filthy grey clouds. The weather is the story of her life; every time a ray of light beams down on her, the darkness is always waiting to smother it again. She hears the commotion about the square through the open window: The breeze wafts in with Shirley yelling at Heather, Bianca scolding her kids and Peggy trying to lure in more customers. Every day they carry out the same routines and enjoy them. Ronnie wishes she could be one of them, she wishes she could do anything as long as it means escaping the pain festering inside her like an infestation waiting to devour and destroy. It is only a matter of time before she breaks down completely; the funeral was proof of that.

But now she doesn't even have Jack, the one person who understands. She didn't really have him ever since it happened, but now he is further away than ever. Before, there was the feeling that she was struggling to stay above the water, but Jack's hand was holding her above it, keeping her from sinking in depression, but now she knows she has slipped from his grasp and is falling. Oddly, she doesn't feel angry at him even though she should, can't summon the energy to hate him. It is better to feel nothing at all than to hurt.

How can she be angry when everything is her fault? It's her who's killed Charlie, she pushed Jack away, made him sleep with Louisa, ended it with him. She deserves all of this.

Pouring out the brandy, she thinks of him holding her at the funeral and how she leant into him, craving just a moment of feeling safe and warm in his embrace. But it didn't help, no matter what people say, crying never helps. It just makes everything so terribly real. But most all, she couldn't stand that moment of feeling safe when all she should feel is guilty that her Charlie is lying dead in the ground instead of her. Then Louisa turned up, breaking their peace forever. That's when she realised that she can't let herself feel anything for him anymore, not anger, not love: nothing. She's had enough pain in her life and she can't cope with anymore. Tears spring behind her eyes at the thought of a future without Jack. She'd had it all planned out: they were going to move away from Walford to the countryside and have two girls and a boy with a pet dog and a huge garden. They were going to get married, have a white wedding with a simple dress and have Roxy in a bridesmaid dress that makes her look like a cake.

They _were_ going to have all of that, had even talked about it.

But not anymore.

She has already made her decision, made it when Charlie was buried. They are history and she isn't allowed to think about them anymore.

Once again, her face becomes icy, impassive, but she can't stop her hands trembling as she thinks of her baby all alone in the dark and some of the liquid slops over the side. Panic grips her, encasing her in a sudden wave a grief. Her hand automatically goes to her locket to comfort. She focuses on trying to imagine a twenty year old Amy, her bright smile as she throws her arms around her birth mother for the first time in the fairytale reunion she has always wanted. Ronnie might have failed one child, but she won't fail her baby girl again; she is determined to find her and to spend her life making up for the years they have lost. And she has her dad to help her.

"Ron?" Roxy calls, interrupting her fantasy.

She doesn't answer, desperately not wanting to deal with Roxy and having to answer questions she isn't ready to. "Ronnie?" she presses gently. The door clicks shut behind her, drowning out the steady hum of voices from below. In silence, she takes the seat next to her sister.

She can sense Roxy needs to talk about what has happened, but it is the last thing she wants. Roxy has always needed to talk about her feelings, but never Ronnie. Ronnie keeps everything locked in her heart where no one can access the things that hurt her as they slowly hollow her out from the inside. Sucking in a deep breath, she meets her sister's gaze reluctantly.

"I'm fine," she says quietly, the words sounding silly to her own ears, not able to conceal the shake in her voice.

Roxy frowns, the lie fooling no one, especially not the sister who knows her so well. "We're worried about you. You haven't said a word since we've come back. Why don't you come down for a bit?" she eyes the brandy bottle, her frown deepening, but she knows better to chastise Ronnie now.

She looks away, not able to stand the pity, even from her baby sister. Ronnie wishes someone would scream at her, hurt her, make her pay. Like Jack. But most of all she doesn't want her to see the hate hidden behind her face, the resentment that Roxy has everything she has ever needed. Even now, she feels the familiar sense of wanting to protect the sister who in her eyes is still a ten year old girl. She pushes back her hair and bravely forces herself to hold Roxy's gaze, forcing a smile to her lips. "Really, I'm feeling ok, Roxy. I just need to be on my own,"

Her sister's hand finds hers' and gives it a quick squeeze. She goes to take it back, but Ronnie holds on, gripping it tightly like she used to all those years ago in her bedroom after Archie had finished with her. It isn't comforting in particular, but it is enough knowing that she isn't on her own. Mingled with the hostility, she feels a sudden rush of love for her flesh and blood. No matter all the stupid things she has done, no matter how much she hates her sometimes, Roxy is still her sister, always will be, and somehow Ronnie is grateful for that.

"What I said at the funeral- I didn't mean it. I was upset. I'm sorry," Roxy's fingers tighten around hers, her blue eyes, the same shade as Ronnie's, sparkling with tears and regret.

"Don't be. I deserved it. I had no right to call that cow when I've done worse to you in past. Amy was mistake that shouldn't have happened,"

Instantly, she regrets her words that were released as carelessly as a whip when she sees Ronnie flinch, stung. She can see the thoughts burning behind her eyes, can see Ronnie trying to understand, trying to forgive her but not able to. Roxy guiltily averts her gaze, hating herself for being so insensitive especially now, knowing how desperate her sister is to have a child of her own.

"I wish I could have a mistake like Amy," she hisses, trying to retain her ice queen's mask. She bites her lip, but can't stop the tears from escaping, her mask cracking from the sadness that suddenly overwhelms her. Ronnie hates herself for resenting a tiny child who can't help who her parents are, but can't stop herself from doing so. She should have two kids now, a boy and a girl, but instead she has neither but her little sister has a beautiful daughter with the man she loves thanks to a one night stand. How could the world be so unfair?

"Hey, don't cry babe," Roxy says, flinging her arms around her big sister and feeling guilty that it's her fault she's upset again. "I didn't mean that. Amy's the best thing that ever happened to me, but I just meant that if I could change things and make her yours then I would," she pulls her closer, cradling her head like Ronnie used to do for her when they were kids. "Of course I would, you're my sister," she breathes, love and sorrow lacing her own voice.

Ronnie sobs silently, clutching Roxy's arm, not wanting her there but needing her all the same. They stay in that position long after she has stopped crying and for once she is happy that Roxy is looking after her instead of the other way round. Silence whirs around them and her heart stirs painfully, Charlie on both of their minds. Ronnie scolds herself, telling her Charlie is in her past, but she can't help thinking about her beautiful baby boy who should be here with her now. Not gone. He isn't part of her past, he never can be; telling herself that is a denial of the truth and if she wants to move on she needs acceptance. She has to grow to used to the fact that he will be in her future as well, always there but not seen, the missing part of her but not making him any less real.

His presence presses against them both, waiting to explode like a bomb. She knows what's coming, wants to prevent it but can't think of the words. Talking about him will be inevitable, but she still isn't ready to accept his death, not yet. She still thinks that maybe tomorrow it will have been a dream and talking about it can only make it reality.

"Look, Ron, this isn't about me and Amy, not really," she says softly, never one to stay quiet for long. "If you wanna talk about-"

Ronnie stiffens in her arms, heart stopping momentarily, fear prickling wildly at the thought of his name being uttered out loud.

"I don't," she cuts across her instantly, her voice like a dagger slicing through Roxy's words. "Ever," once again, the walls around her rise to stop the sorrow showing in her voice; she is not willing to let her see the true extent of her devastation, not willing to let her see how vulnerable she really is. Roxy has always known her as the strong one and as long as she keeps up that facade she can't use the truth about the mess she really is to hurt her.

"Ok, if you're sure," she replies concernedly, but knowing not to press her. Instead, she hugs her closer, letting her know that she is here whenever she is ready, communicating the understanding that words can't.

They fall silent again and raised voices suddenly blare out from below. Ronnie closes her eyes, shutting them out, in her heart knowing who it is but not wanting to care as much as she does, snuggling against Roxy.

"You let me see her now!" Jack bellows from downstairs.

"Don't you think you've done enough damage?" Peggy yells back, equally as angry. "Get outta my pub!"

"I'm not leaving until I've seen her,"

The exchange continues, neither person willing to back down, each believing that they are doing the best for Ronnie. She isn't sure if she wants to hear his apologies again when they mean nothing to her, but she isn't sure if she doesn't want to see him either. It means something that he is fighting for her, but it doesn't make a difference when she won't ever let him back into her life. They keep yelling and Ronnie wonders if it will ever stop, hearing his voice so soon after the funeral harder with each word he speaks. Roxy can sense the effect it is having on her sister and she untangles herself from Ronnie, leaping up from the sofa.

"Than man!" Roxy exclaims indignantly after a particularly loud outburst from Jack. "If I were you, I'd have turned lesbian by now," she pauses, softening her voice. "I'll be back in a moment after I've dealt with this. Then for a change let me look after you and we can pick out a trashy romance, eat rubbish and lounge around up here all day, ok?" she says through a smile.

Ronnie nods weakly, not sure if the dread encasing her is because Roxy is leaving or because she is terrified to be left alone with her thoughts where she is forced to remember how she is responsible for her baby's death. "Sure, I'd like that,"

"Ron..." she begins hesitantly before charging downstairs to confront Jack. "One day, you'll be a great mum,"

Ronnie smiles brightly as she walks away, her first true smile in days, Roxy's words meaning more to her that she will ever know. All her life she has felt like she has failed her children, and for her sister to say that fills her with hope. Again, her thoughts turn to her own Amy, how she will never let her down once she finds her. There is nothing she isn't willing to do to make the perfect mother. She wonders if Amy thinks about her mum as often as she thinks of her. She fingers the locket, pressing it gently to her lips, considering all the things she will say to her.

The door swings open with a whoosh of air behind her then startling her. Half of her hopes it is Jack, that he has barged past her family to come and murmur his meaningless promises again.

But it isn't.

It's Louisa.

And she's holding a gun.

**Well, this was pointless xD Just a filler chapter. Hate this with a passion, but oh well. I actually loathe writing Ronnie at the moment for some reason. I'm sick of miserable Ronnie xD I can't wait to write the next chapter though, so yeah ;P Reviews= love :3**


	16. Fathers Don't Lie

**So bogged down with work at the moment! Sorry about the long gap between the last chapter and this, but I've just had so many things to do and school work seems to be consuming all my free time at the moment along with vet/farm work outside of school. I'll try my best to update as quickly as possible though**

Louisa slips inside the room, closing the door behind her with a foreboding creak. She nurses the gun in her hand, not yet used to its weight, the cool metal sending waves of power thudding through her veins. The gun makes her feel changed, as if she can do anything: invisible. Turning it her palms, she decides she likes the way it feels, likes the dangerous heat emanating from it. With it, she will never have to suffer or be afraid again. She wishes she could have had it when faced with her father in the past, instantly feeling guilty when it wasn't his fault, not really. If it wasn't for _her_ she could have been with her real dad all along.

Ronnie's mouth is frozen open in shock, hands shaking in fury but still lingering over her stomach as if there is still a baby there to protect. She watches her, stares into her deathly cold eyes that are full of nothing and her heart bleeds with longing. More than anything, she wishes she had the ability to just shut out all the pain, to detach herself from the world. But she hates Ronnie for doing so. How can anyone lose a baby and not be in pieces right now? How can anyone be so cold?

Their eyes search each other's, both looking for something and neither woman finding the answer they want, fire igniting behind Louisa's at the darkness in Ronnie's. There is no evidence there that she cares what she has done to her, cares what she alone has forced Louisa to endure. She, her sister, has always lead such a separate life despite their shared connection; a perfect life with her perfect family and perfect boyfriend. It should have been her life too. There is no joy left in the world for Louisa; there can't be until she makes the woman who has sucked it all away feel just a moment of despair, a moment of pain. If she doesn't feel any emotions, then Louisa can at least make her suffer physical pain.

Only moments have passed in their silent exchange and finally Ronnie recovers from her shock.

"What is it you want from me?" she breathes angrily, the icy wall not even penetrable when faced with barrel of a gun "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Hearing the words fall like shooting stars from her lips is too much in Louisa's tense state. Her last nerve snaps. "Shut up! You have no right to ask me questions!" she screeches, leaping forward as if burnt by scalding coals.

Ronnie's own temper reaches boiling point and she jumps up, unafraid; a part of her longs to feel the bullet penetrate her skin, feel it rip her apart as she deserves so all the pain in her life just fades to nothing, but the urge to stay alive is stronger now. Now that she has decided to find Amy there is something worth fighting for. "What is your problem? I've lost my baby and you've got my man! Everything that matters is gone!" it hurts her to know that her heart still thinks of Jack as her man, but she pushes the thought away angrily.

Her cheeks flush with fire and the hatred simmering behind her eyes scalds Ronnie to the core, filling her with a dread she can't explain. There is something so familiar about this woman, something she can't put her finger on. Louisa holds up the gun shakily, pointing it at Ronnie, anger clouding her eyes when she doesn't even flinch. She can hardly believe that this woman is so detached from the world she doesn't even feel fear.

The truth of it is that Ronnie has stared death in the face so many times that she is accustomed to its looming presence now.

"Sit down," she commands, trying to keep the hysterical edge from creeping into her voice. Any guilt has been swallowed by Ronnie's unfeeling nature, but she still doesn't like the thought that she is the one who has to press the trigger even if she does understand that this is the only way.

And it's what her dad wants and you have to do what your dad wants. He had been so angry with her after the funeral, so angry he threatened to have nothing more to do with her. She couldn't bare losing a second father, especially not one who loves her so much when that's all she's ever needed. It won't be enough just wanting to hurt _her_, she'll have to do it if she wants to prove her love to her dad.

"Sit down!" she yells it this time, jamming the gun hard into the centre of Ronnie's chest.

She manages not to flinch, but for a brief second she can't help the pain and fear when it flashes behind her eyes. Despite everything, Ronnie doesn't want to die, not while Amy might still need her.

Louisa smiles in satisfaction and it suddenly strikes Ronnie why she seems so familiar; the sick grin, the need to control everything, the soft exterior hiding a cold cruelness all remind her of her father. There is something else there too behind all the anger, something she is ashamed of that's festering and waiting to explode like a bomb. Ronnie sees it because it's the same look that she keeps closely guarded behind her own facade. Clearly, there is something not right with this woman. Why else would she be so intent on harming a woman she has never met before?

Sucking in a deep breath, she falls to the sofa and stares Louisa straight in the eyes, trying to force away her hate at this mental crackpot for putting this upon her while she is grieving. "I can get you help. If you just put the gun down I can phone a doctor and he'll help you,"

She lets out a laugh, high pitched and mirthless as it echoes through the room and sends a shiver spiralling through Ronnie's body. Wildly, she shakes her head from side to side, some of her brown curls flying lose from their grip giving her a manic appearance. "You're the one who needs help! You're baby has just died and you don't even care!"

Ronnie springs to her feet again taking Louisa by surprise as she pushes the gun aside. It doesn't matter how unhinged she is, _no one_ can say that she doesn't care when it's all she's thought about since it happened. The grief, the guilt, is tearing her apart, killing her. She will never be the same again and _no one_ will ever say that she doesn't care. Even so, she can't bear to let her emotions show, not wanting anyone to see how she feels because then they will know it was her fault; they will see the guilt and blame her like Jack does.

"Don't you dare talk about him," she hisses, not caring about the gun pressing into her side. "You know nothing about what this has done to me!"

Louisa scoffs, eyes flashing dangerously. "You think I care what this has done to you? He's better off dead than having you as a mother! You probably wanted him gone just like you wanted me gone,"

Her words have more effect than she can possibly know, both her Dad's and Jack's words coming back to her full force in a hailstorm that makes her want to sink to the ground and sob. The night Amy was taken, her dad had told her that Amy would be better dead than with her and when Charlie died Jack had told her that he was better off dead because all they ever do is argue, bur she'd known what he meant. It's her who causes all the arguments, her they are both so much better without. She's heard the words so many times that she is beginning to believe them.

She shakes her head, trying to convince Louisa more than herself she did want her children, that they weren't better off without her. She did want them, more than anything and she was their mother. No matter what, that must count for something even if she is a pathetic form of human being not capable of caring for children without hurting them. She was, is, their mother and she would have loved them. The anger dissipates from her eyes, leaving the raw grief plain to see. She lets Louisa see, willing her to understand that no matter what she is like she needed her children and only ever wanted to be allowed to love them.

"Losing my children has broke my heart," she touches her chest, feeling it burning an angry hole. "All I can feel is a huge black space where I used to love,"

For a moment, Louisa falls silent and she can hear the blood pounding in her head along with angry voices still arguing below. Confusion forms a mist over her thoughts, stopping her from thinking clearly. Suddenly, the gun feels heavy in her hands, an invader that doesn't belong. She can see the pain behind her sister's eyes, can feel the crushing grief destroying her because she knows it all too well. Her hand falls slightly, doubt creeping through her. She had been so sure that this woman didn't feel, didn't care, but even the best actress couldn't pull off that amount of heartache.

But she has to be.

She doesn't care about anyone but herself, her dad told her so.

And he wouldn't lie to her; he loves her and fathers always tell the truth.

"Liar!" she screeches, not quite able to prevent the waver accompanying it. "You don't care about anything. Not even the man you 'loved'," she adds mockingly. "_You_ drove him to me. The only thing you care about is you. Everything else around you suffers or dies. You ignored him so he came to me and he might have said sorry, but you know what? He _liked_ me," she shouts, unable to stop the flow of pent up rage now she has begun. She needs to yell at her, needs to let it all out to alleviate any hesitations. "He _liked_ what I did to him and _liked_ that he didn't have to make love to someone who can't feel human emotion, someone who wasn't like ice in his arms. There's no wonder he left you just like there's no wonder your baby died. Neither of them could stand to be with you a moment longer!" she pushes the gun hard into Ronnie again with a power she hadn't known she possessed.

She tumbles backwards, her face carved into an expression of shock and hurt. Landing with a thud, she ignores her throbbing head that bumped against the sofa and pulls herself into a sitting position. She watches Louisa, not seeing the madness, not even hating her. The thought of her with Jack churns the bile in her stomach, but it's not that that hurts. She knows every word Louisa speaks is the truth, knows what Jack did is her fault, knows that she has no one who loves her because she is incapable of giving it back, knows that she killed her baby. Tears spill from her eyes because she no longer has the strength to fight them or Louisa. She has been trying to convince herself that she can move on through Amy, but now she knows she never can. And she'd known that before. She'd just been pushing away the thoughts and hiding them away like she always does. But now this woman has snatched away any hope she had and turned it to loathing. She wants to beg her to kill her, but she doesn't even deserve that pleasure; she deserves nothing better than hearing the spiteful words that are true.

She searches for a speech to defend herself with, but the words can't seem to scratch their way out. How can she fight something so undeniably true? "Why are you saying this? We don't even know each other. What have I done to you that's made you hate me so much?" she asks without anger, without feeling. It doesn't matter that Louisa is a disturbed stranger who is probably just irritated that Jack has lost interest in her because it won't alter the truth behind her rage. The words are just to fill the silence before she loses control.

"We don't know each other? And who's fault is that?" she demands, making no sense. "Don't act like you don't know what you did to me!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she says calmly through her tears. "You're mad!"

"Don't say that!" she screams, red flashing before her eyes. "You know exactly what you did to me, you bitch!" she feels her final shred of doubt break with Ronnie's refusal to even acknowledge what she did. It's bad enough that she isn't even sorry, but not even willing to admit that she knows what she did is enough to send her over the edge.

"I've done nothing to you," she says forcefully. "Nothing. It's you who's taken Jack away, who's ruining my life,"

"Shut up!" she roars suddenly, raising the gun with a shaking hand and pointing it towards Ronnie. She has never felt such anger, not even towards her dad. An iron fist of fury clamps down on every nerve inside her body. She wants to kill her, not just to stop her having the only thing she wants, wants to watch as a bullet tears through her skin and destroys her like she has destroyed Louisa's life. "It's your fault, what that man did to me is your fault and you're not even sorry!"

She pulls up her sleeves and reveals the terrible red gashes zig zagging up her wrists, the crimson bright against the creamy skin. "He made me want to die and that's your fault! I was just a baby. It wasn't my fault what _your_ dad did, wasn't my fault he didn't care about your family enough to be faithful to your mum! What can I possibly have done to make you hate me so much?"

Confused, a feeling of icy dread makes Ronnie freeze, makes her heart stop beating. _I was just a baby. _A baby, just like Amy was when she'd given her away. And she knows what Archie did to her, knows that her own father made her pregnant, knows that her own mother hated her for taking her husband away. And she blames her too and she is right to blame her. For the first time in years she remembers the darkest part of her mind, remembers how her dad would come into her room at night and touch her because of the wretched, pathetic child she had been. She recognises that look in Louisa's eyes now, knows it is from some unspeakable abuse.

But it can't be her. Can't be her little Amy who's found her at her very worst. Can't be her Amy who she gave away into a life of abuse that has made her like this. A strangled sob explodes inside her chest as she prays to God that this isn't her little girl. She clutches the cold locket in her hand.

"Say something!" she demands. "I was your sister, but you didn't care. I should have had your life, shouldn't have been with...with him," her lips wobbles and her hatred increases as she tightens her grip on the gun. "It wasn't my fault he had an affair and got some woman pregnant. It isn't my fault she died in childbirth,"

Relief floods through her and she shuts her eyes, willing her heart beat to slow. She is thankful that this tortured girl isn't her Amy, but a part of her can't help be disappointed that her daughter isn't stood right in front of her, ready to be saved and held in her arms.

"My sister?" she breathes.

Again, Louisa hesitates, bewildered at the obvious confusion from Ronnie. She tries to picture her dad's face in her mind, to see the love in his eyes and her resolve strengthens. She is acting again, just like she did when she pretended to care that her baby had died before.

The only thing she could possibly want a child for is so she can ruin its life, which is all more the reason to do as her father said and stop her from ever having children again.

"Stop acting like you can't remember! You didn't have threaten to tell your mum if he ever saw me again, didn't have to threaten to ruin his life just so you and the golden sister could be his only little girls. I ended up living with a monster who made my life hell because of you and all along I could have had the perfect father,"

She should have known it was too good to be true, should have known her 'perfect' father had a hidden agenda as always. Knowing him, he has probably planned all this in that this would throw her over the edge and running right into his waiting arms. Her eyes sting with the betrayal, still just a child yearning for her dad's approval, more emotion too much stress on her heart. She wants to believe that this isn't true, that Louisa is just mad, but she knows better. Choking back a sob, she fights the urge to tell her what kind of man their dad really is, not able to hurt the unstable woman anymore.

"I don't know what he's told you, but he's not the man you think he is," she breathes quietly, willing her to understand. Pity seeps through her body, Ronnie understanding more than anyone the hell she has been through, feeling a peculiar bond with her half-sister. No matter what things this woman has said about her, it isn't really her fault. It's her dad's. Her dad's and the web of lies he weaves around the people he is supposed to care about. "I didn't know anything about an affair, about a baby...I could never have...not after," she can't bring herself to say that she knows what it feels like to give a child away and that no matter his faults she could never have made her dad do it, can't bring herself to say Amy's name.

Louisa listens to her, inhaling all the pathetic lies. How dare this woman claim her dad is anything less than a saint; how dare she suggest that he is anything less that her hero who made her feel alive again. He was right; until she has taken away Ronnie's only chance at finding happiness she will never be able to move on and have the life she should always have had with the dad who wanted her.

She holds the gun higher, pointing it at Ronnie, no longer shaking as an odd wave of calmness sweeps over her. This isn't something she wants to do, but it is a necessity.

"Listen to me," Ronnie pleads, suddenly realising that she doesn't want to die without knowing what kind of life Amy has lead, without seeing her sister one last time, without telling Jack she's sorry and that she didn't mean to kill their baby. She knows that Louisa is going to shoot and there's no stopping her, but she has to try. They say that before you die your life flashes before your eyes and it's true. "I didn't know. I swear I didn't know. My dad...your dad...he was a monster too. He lies, he manipulates, he forced me to give away-"

"No!" Louisa screams, her voice cutting across Ronnie like a knife severing bone. "He's my dad that loves me and dad's don't lie,"

She thinks of the man who made her like this, seeing only his face. _This is for you._

The bomb in her chest finally explodes in a final fit of rage and she doesn't feel her fingers pulling the cold, hard trigger of the gun.

But she hears the bang, hears it loud and clear as it rings like a persistent phantom in her ear.

She looks at Ronnie, her sister, sees her clutching her stomach in fear as she writhes in pain while the scarlet stains her hands red.

Her blood freezes in her veins, her heart stopping with a cold jolt as her knees turn weak.

She hadn't meant to do it, never wanted to hurt anyone.

The gun falls from her hands with a loud, final thud.

She backs away, an uncontrollable shiver seizing her as she fights back a scream.

Then she stumbles from the room, still not breathing and she doesn't look back.

_I didn't mean to be such a bad girl, daddy._

**Muahahaha xD Sorry about the long length. Well, Louisa has lost it 0.o I rather enjoyed writing this, but i'm not sure if it turned out the way I wanted. Let me know your thoughts please!**


	17. Broken Promises

**Well, it's been three million years since the last update but I am still alive ;) If there's anyone still reading this, please review :D**

_Bang:_

And the world comes to a stop.

The gunshot tears Roxy and Jack's angry voices to shreds, their anger dissolving into fear as the chatter of the customers fade to a stunned silence. Roxy's eyes find Jack's, her face as white as bone as the shock hits in. You hear about things like this on the news, about people losing it and going on a shooting massacre, but it can't be happening here. Not in Walford where the only excitement is Dot's latest gossip.

Everyone is frozen like tree rooted into the ground; no one dares to speak as if it might somehow bring another shot. But only seconds have passed when the panic ensues.

A scream erupts and someone bursts into tears as Peggy screeches to everyone not to panic and to get down while she calls the cops. Jack finally acts, his cop instincts kicking in as he bellows in a calm voice that everyone should listen to Peggy and then he lunges at Roxy, shielding her body with her own. It doesn't matter that moments ago he loathed her, doesn't matter if anyone is hurt as long as he protects Roxy for Ronnie and for Amy. He's already let Penny and Charlie down and he refuses to let his daughter grow up without her mum.

They all wait in a fearful silence, dreading and half hoping that someone will cry out and confirm that it wasn't their loved one who got shot. From the hallway, Peggy can be heard struggling to give the police an address in her panic. The air is thick with the expectancy that any moment the gun will go off again.

But it doesn't.

After what feels like a lifetime, Peggy plucks up the courage to speak.

"It's ok everyone. No one's bin hurt ave they? It must have been from outside,"

No one responds, everyone still expecting the worse, only starting to speak again when the outbreak of sirens whirs from outside, slowly getting closer.

From beneath him, Roxy breathes a heavy sigh of relief.

"Oi! You best not be comfy up there. Gerrof me!" She bellows loudly, snapping the tension like a twig. Someone laughs nervously as Jack helps her to her feet. She announces something about everyone having a free drink, but Jack knows her better than most people and doesn't miss the shake of her hand, the tears swimming in her eyes. He places a firm hand on her shoulder and smiles.

"Are you ok?"

She hesitates. "Yeah...just I thought for a moment that someone might get hurt...and they did, I think I have a few broken rips after you crushed me," she laughs.

"Sorry about that," he grins sheepishly, it quickly sliding off his face as the chatter breaks out again, the event already becoming something to gossip about now no one is hurt. In that brief moment, he'd thought only about protecting Roxy, but now reality has resumed its cruel pace again he remembers why he was here; remembers that he has ruined everything, betrayed and lost Ronnie, buried their baby.

Roxy can see what he is thinking, everything that has happened suddenly hitting her again as well, but she can't manage to summon the energy to be angry at him anymore. This is the man who was just willing to take a bullet for her and she has never really doubted how much he loves her sister. He's just a pillock sometimes.

"Jack, if you really wanna talk to Ronnie then do, but just don't hurt her anymore ok? She's had enough heartache for one day. Besides, i'll hunt you down and kill you if you upset her. Geddit?"

"If I hurt her then I give you permission to kill me. Thanks, Rox,"

"Just go and make things right ok? And i'm so sorry about the baby. I wish..."

The look on his face silences her, the baby not a topic he ever wants to talk about. He just wants to forget Charlie was ever conceived so he can't feel the pain either. Jack heads past her as the police arrive and Peggy explains what happened and makes his way up the stairs, gently calling her name.

"Ron?" he pauses outside the door, saying sorry so much easier when he can't see what he's done to her, to make himself believe that sorry isn't just a meaningless word. "Can we talk? Not about the baby or even us, I just need to see you. Louisa's nothing to me. I'm sorry that she turned up. Can I come in?" he tries to keep the pleading note from his voice, tries to stop himself from begging her to let him take care of her, not able to bear the thought of how devastated she had been at the funeral.

He waits, praying that she will answer even though he wouldn't deserve it. After a few minutes of silence, he can't wait any more. He has to see her, hold her, make her understand that he has never meant to hurt her and that he loves her more than anything.

Ominously, groaning, the door creaks open and Jack's heart sinks into hell. He opens his mouth to yell for help, but his voice can't seem to scratch its way out. Once again, he hasn't been here when she's needed him, has let her do this to herself. Again he tries to shout, but he can't because if he does then this will be real and not just some slow motion nightmare.

Blood, a ghastly scarlet, stains the wooden floor and a black gun looks sinister and pleased with itself in its river of destruction. It isn't the blood that scares him though.

She isn't moving, is as still as death.

He thinks he can see a slow rise and fall of her chest, but he isn't sure if it is wishful thinking. Jack has never asked God for anything, but now he begs him to keep her alive because he can't live with himself if she died hating him. He finally breaks free of his shock and vaults to the top of the stairs and shouts Roxy.

"What is it?" she hollers back.

"Ambulance. Call an ambulance! It's Ronnie, she's been...oh God she's been shot,"

Roxy's hand flies to her mouth and for a moment she looks as though she might faint before sprinting to the phone. He runs back to where she lays unmoving and almost falls to his knees.

"Ron?" he grabs her hand and her skin burns his, cold against him. "It's me. I'm here and i'm never leaving you again," She remains as silent as before, but her eyelids flutter and Jack's heart leaps gratefully. "Please wake up Ronnie!"

He clutches her shoulders and gently shakes her, desperate to keep her alive, desperate for her to keep her awake until the paramedics arrive. Blood is matted in her blonde hair, already going a mottled brown colour, changing as quickly as life does to death. "Don't leave me," he urges her using a hand to put some pressure on the gaping hole in her side, not caring when it flows over his own; if she dies then her blood would have been on his hands anyway. He'd be happy to swim in a sea of blood as long as it saves Ronnie. In his mind, he begs for the paramedics to be quick, knowing enough about medicine to realise that's lost far too much blood.

She looks so fragile and he has never felt so helpless. He could have prevented this, should have known she would try to kill herself again. But he did nothing and now there's nothing he can do to make it right. Hysteria clamps down on his heart, gripping every part of his mind so that he can't think clearly as it hits him that this time he really might lose her. Before when she took the pills in the hospital it hadn't seemed real and she looked almost doll like, but now he is here with her and can feel the wavering beat of her heart beneath his fingers and he knows that she is on the brink of the end.

A tear escapes from his eyelid as guilt swells inside him like a balloon. If only he had never brought Louisa in his car they could have been safe in his house, if only he had just barged past Roxy and insisted to see her. This is his fault. Careful not to move his hand, he lifts her carefully into his arms, his tears mixing with the red. He holds her close to him knowing that it might be his last chance. Jack gives her a lingering kiss on the lips, willing her to life as he presses harder on her wound when blood continues to pour from it.

Her eyes flicker open and she stares up into his eyes. "Jack..." she murmurs.

"Ronnie!" he almost yells. "I thought...I thought that you were..." the words snag in his throat and instead he caresses her cheek and she makes no effort to move away.

"I can't-" she struggles to say. "I can't breathe,"

He isn't sure, but he thinks that she is happy that he is with her. Running her hand through her tangled hair, they momentarily forgot the baby, only them existing as she comes to terms with the fact that she might be dying. But there's no place she would rather die than in Jack's arms; all she thought about when Louisa shot her was how much she needed to tell Jack how sorry she was and that she would always love him no matter what she said or he did. Somehow, she manages to lift an arm, ignoring the searing pain ripping through her side and she grabs hold of his arm.

"I know, darlin'. It's ok, the paramedics are gonna be here soon and you'll be just fine,"

"Jack..." she searches for the words to tell him how much he means to her but nothing could possibly express how sorry she is. "Bring Amy home . I have to know...," she murmurs, still wanting to die knowing that someone she trusts will make sure her little girl is ok.

"No," he says angrily, shaking his head as if it might somehow make her words less real. "You'll be able to find her yourself," "I promise," he curses himself for making promises he might not be able to keep, but right now all that matters is keeping her awake and talking.

"And you know what we used to talk about? The two girls, a boy and a dog in the countryside, we can still have that. We'll get married and have that small wedding with the honeymoon in Canada you always wanted, and you can dress Roxy in something vile to get your own back. I love you," his words come out in a rush, needing her to hear them, wanting to soothe and at least not let her down now. He holds her closer, never wanting to let her go. Her grip tightens on his arm and he kisses her again and he knows that if she had the energy she would have kissed him back.

A tear leaks from the corner of her eye as he pulls away and he brushes it away with his thumb. "I'm so sorry," she breathes in a weak, strangled voice. "I didn't-" her voice catches, a wince darkening her face as her grip on him slackens. He knows that she is hardly holding on to life now and that if he wasn't here then she'd probably already be gone

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he breathes. "Everything is my fault and when you're better you can yell at me all you want,"

Grief blazes behind her blue and eyes and he experiences a jolt in his own heart. If it wasn't for their baby dying, then none of this would be happening to them. "I killed him,"

For a moment confusion clouds his eyes, horror exploding inside his head as it dawns on him what she is talking about. She blames herself and he has made her think that "No, God Ron no. It wasn't your fault. It was just an accident," He clutches at her hand as if it will somehow keep her from weakening, urging her to believe him. Jack might have let her down in every other way, but he won't have her dying believing she killed their baby.

"I'm sorry," she repeats breathlessly, tearfully as her eyes flutter to a close. Her breathing is laboured, ragged but at least the rise and fall of her chest is still there.

Finally, the paramedics burst through the door and have to prise Ronnie from his arms, Jack not able to move as if he is in a dream. He feels a tug in his heart as they begin to work on her. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't be losing the gorgeous fiery blonde with an annoying sister and a glare that could kill who no one could hurt, couldn't be losing the love of his life.

"Mr Branning, I need to you to tell me what happened!" one of the paramedics flicks his fingers in front of his face, finally breaking the reverie.

"I- I don't know,"

"Do you know who did this?"

"No goddamit! Do something instead of asking me things that won't help her!" he yells angrily through a strangled cry, not wanting to admit that she did it to herself.

Roxy appears then, her hand clinging to the doorframe, her knees going weak as she sees her sister lying paler than winter in blood on the ground.

"Oh God Jack, my sister! I can't lose my sister!" she flings her arms around Jack's neck but he pushes her away and she almost falls. A look of shock crosses her face and for the first time in her life she is scared of him.

"Stay away from me! This is your fault! If you'd have let me up here in the first place then she'd still be fine,"

Tears flows freely from her eyes, guilt leaping on her as she recognises a hint of truth in his words. "That's isn't fair Jack,"

"No, this isn't fair! We should still have our baby, we should be picking out clothes, laughing about names, not this!" he bellows angrily, desperately needing someone to blame to take away from the fact that he caused all of this. Anything is better than looking at Ronnie and realising his worst nightmare is coming true; he doesn't care who he hurts in the process.

Silence falls between them for a brief moment, save for the metallic clatter of the paramedics trying to save her, so quiet that he hears what was only supposed to be a whisper.

"We're losing her,"

He sees them exchange worried glances, but turns back in time to see a slight figure frozen in the doorway and at first he can't believe his eyes. Her eyes are bright red, her cheeks tear stained, her hands shaking uncontrollably, a grey dust on her hands. She looks as if she wants to do something, to help but is being stopped by some unseen force, torn between two paths. Their eyes meet and in that instant he knows and the almost drives him to the ground.

Louisa, the woman he brought into their lives, shot Ronnie.

Anger roars inside him and he looks back at Ronnie, praying that she makes it, in his mind telling her how sorry he is for abandoning her again.

As much as he wants to stay with her, the desire to take out his guilt on someone is too strong, the desire to hurt the callous woman who did this to her overpowering. Roxy turns and sees her too, making no attempt to stop Jack as he rushes past her. Louisa begins to stumble backwards and he does what he promised he never would again.

Louisa breaks into a run and Jack follows, leaving Ronnie on the cold, hard floor.

**Ahh Jack what a doosh eh? 0.o Man, this chapter is a fail of gushy rubbish.**


	18. He Made Me

**Dude, this chapter. I hope I catch Louisa's insanity and Jack's anger (:**

"I'll kill you if you come near her again!"

Jack roars storming after her, footsteps thudding against the pavement in rhythm with the blood stampeding through his veins. The intensity of his anger shocks him, empowers him. All he can see is red; all he wants to see is red because otherwise it will mean thinking of Ronnie lying there with death preying on her like a pack of vultures, so afraid and cold. He wants the whore he has brought into their lives to pay, wants to her to hurt as much as Ronnie does. His fury is the only thing keeping him going. If he lets himself think about how powerless he was as he felt her life slipping away in his arms then he won't be able to go on.

Up ahead, Louisa hurtles onwards, darting between people and ignoring their angry yells as she charges past them. Jack is only metres behind and he knows that soon she will tire out and will have to stop. His own heart is pummelling wildly against his chest and he is sucking in breathes in irregular gulps, but no matter how tired he gets he won't stop until he has his hands around Louisa's neck; until it is her life he can feel draining beneath his fingers and not the memory of Ronnie's. She slips down a side alley then, her hair trailing behind her in a fight with the wind.

Jack follows, ignoring the wall as it scrapes against his arms. The distance between them is closing and he can almost reach out and grab her now. She gives a glance back, but she seems to be looking right through him. It might be Jack chasing her, but he knows that it is not him who she is running from. Her mouth is like a crack on her face, forged into a permanent expression of fear that causes Jack's mind to flash with rage. How dare she look afraid, how dare the pathetic bitch feel anything but guilt when only Ronnie has the right to be afraid.

A cornered deer, she is still looking back when her foot hits a rock and she trips and slams against the ground. Jack feels a growl of cold satisfaction in his stomach as she cries out in pain. She starts to pull herself up, sobbing now, but Jack reaches her in seconds and tugs her head up by the hair before throwing her back to the floor. A small sob carves its way out of her throat into the daylight and the wind shivers. She turns herself over, tears staining her cheeks as she struggles for breath.

"I'm sorry," she pants through her cries. "Didn't mean to,"

"You're sorry?" Jack scoffs, almost screaming at her. He has to deny the urge to grab her by the neck and wring the life out of her straight away. That would be too gentle; he wants her to suffer like their baby suffered; he wants her to suffer like she has made Ronnie suffer. "Ronnie is lying with a hole blasted in her side in a pool of blood. She's dying and all you can say is you're sorry, you whore!" He gives her a sharp jab in the side with his foot, a mirthless laugh spiralling from him as she winces in pain.

She crawls away from him and Jack lets her. He wants her to feel momentarily safe, and then feel the rush of terror Ronnie must have felt when she found herself staring death in the face. Whimpering, she pulls herself into a sitting position slumped against the wall, clutching her knees tightly to her chest. She buries her head into her arms and shudders seize her entire body as if she is cold. Jack steps closer to her, footsteps heavy, deliberate.

He halts before her and the world is silent save for Louisa's sobs. They whirl around him, trying to find an opening in his armour, but they don't reach him, his eyes as dark as space. He doesn't feel anything for the woman in front of him, can't feel anything except a cold anger. She can cry all she wants, but it won't change a thing. Every passing second means that the pathetic girl who hurt Ronnie is still alive, while Ronnie is probably ever closer to dying. He has to make her pay for Ronnie. A life for a life. Jack doesn't want to admit it, but he isn't stupid. He saw how much blood there was, felt her soft skin turn to ice under his touch; all the doctors in the world won't be able to save her without a miracle.

Louisa stares up at him, her eyes alight with fear, but somewhere in there is also a sense that she admires him, loves him even that only angers him further. Ronnie can't die for an intoxicated girl's madness. He kneels down to her level, their eyes locking in a tussle of confusion. In that moment he doesn't see the evil he expected in her, but the same look he sometimes sees in Ronnie: that tall wall that conceals a lifetime of hurt, one that if you penetrate you will destroy what remains of them. He grabs hold of her face, squeezing her chin tight in his hand, shaking away the thought. Louisa is nothing like Ronnie.

"Please don't do it to me again," she whimpers suddenly, her arms folding around her head. She knots her fingers and twists them in her hair until it hurts. Pain has never bothered her, but the thought of her daddy making her feel dirty makes her want to scream. 'I was just doing what you asked me,'

"What I asked you?" Jack bellows, the moment of guilt he felt evaporating. "I love her, you twisted bitch! You're just a pathetic school girl who can't cope with being used!"

"I'm sorry, Daddy! I'm sorry! I'll be a better girl from now on," she cries, pulling her knees tighter against her chest.

Jack freezes, shock rendering him motionless. "What?"

"Sorry Daddy i'm sorry. I did my best didn't mean to be bad," she pleads with him, desperate for him to turn back into the daddy she loves.

His hand drops like a lead weight to his side, horror contorting his features as he watches Louisa start to slowly rock back and forth like a sail boat out at sea. The person before him is no longer a grown woman, but a child; a child who has been forced to experience things she should never have had to, a scared girl driven to madness.

Again he is reminded of Ronnie. He is the only person who has who has ever been close to truly understanding her and he realises that there have been many times she would have lost it if he hadn't been there to catch her. Disgust courses through him as he realises what he is doing, his anger fading as quickly as it arrived. No matter what Louisa has been through, even if she had been perfectly sane, Jack had been fully prepared to take her life. His hands start to shake and the tears he has been holding back for Ronnie finally start to fall. He averts his eyes, unable to look any longer at Louisa as she continues to cry as she huddles in her ball like a child. He had come so close to being a murderer, a murderer worse than Louisa. Killing her wouldn't have saved Ronnie like he'd been fooling himself, it would only tarnish her memory and ease his pain until woke up the next morning and remember that he'd never wake up with Ronnie again.

"I'm sorry," he breathes. "Jesus i'm so sorry," he takes her face again, but this time he holds her with the gentlest touch he can muster. "Look at me,"

She shivers under his touch, flinching even though every nerve in her body tells her to obey her daddy.

"Whatever it is that you're scared of, it isn't going to happen. It's me, Jack Branning. We met a couple of weeks ago. You're safe,"

Louise freezes, her entire body relaxing under the spell of his words as the years disappear and she returns to present. She seems to be breaking free of whatever trance she was in, like someone returning to earth after abduction.

"Where am I?" she looks around suddenly, confused and disorientated. He stumbles back from her, forcing himself not to turn and bolt towards the hospital. In spite of the guilt, he still feels nothing for the woman who hurt Ronnie, but he can see that she is mad and he has to help her. He got her into this state and he has to get her out of it. It is what Ronnie would want.

"We're in Walford," he tells her, forcing himself not to yell at her out of frustration for himself. Every second he wastes here is a second more away from Ronnie. He promised her he would stay by her side and he broke that promise. Heaven knows he has to make it up to her before it is too late. "You need to go to hospital,"

"No," she shakes her head furiously, looking down hard at her hands. Her eyes glisten and another cry escapes her lips as she leaps to her feet as if an electric shock has been induced. She searches frantically for something, her gaze fixed on the floor, movements growing increasingly wild as realises that the gun is lost. "It's still there. He'll kill me. I didn't mean to do it he made me he'll kill me if I don't bring it back he made me. Never wanted to hurt her didn't mean to was an accident," she continues to mutter wildly, her breaths becoming rapid, her pupils dilating as she loses control. Jack doesn't know what to do, not even caring. He simply wants to go to Ronnie, but he knows he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he left her out here and something happened.

"Went back but it wasn't there. She wasn't moving and too much blood never meant to fire it. He made me didn't want to make him mad I love him. What if she's dying?" tears flood from her eyes and she tugs at her hair again and tears until several strands rip away and she is holding them in her hands. She bites down hard on her lip drawing droplets of blood that roll down her chin. Louisa wipes it away and a scarlet stain spreads on her sleeve. Jack grabs hold of her and starts to shake her like a ragdoll, but he might as well be rattling a person without a soul. There is a blank gap behind her eyes and she is lost in herself. He lets go and she falls to the floor, still clutching at her hair.

"Was going to help but got blood on me. He'll kill me have to find it he's my dad I have to make him happy. She can't die. I'm not a murderer he made me," she starts to rock again, wringing her hands together as if trying to cleanse herself of some unseen stain.

"Who made you?" Jacks asks, changing tactic. Maybe if he can get her talking he'll be able to convince her to come to the hospital with him. He has to convince her; he can't just leave her here but he has to get to Ronnie.

She cocks her head towards him, eyes widening in shock as she remembers he is there. "My dad made me. My dad Archie,"

Jack steps back, horror sucking the breath from him as he realises what has happened. Archie has been lying to her, manipulating her even though he is the only person she has trusted. What father could prey on some disturbed girl and enlist her help to kill his daughter? Archie is the monster, not Louisa. He can feel the anger rising like a tidal wave in him again. That man has to go from her life for good.

**So sorry about how garbage this is. This chapter caused some rate problems. Press the magic button and lemme know what you thought of Jack's reaction ;')**


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